


Please Handle Your Sheikah Slate With Care

by janazza



Series: Linked Universe Shenanigans [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: AU of an AU?, Age Regression/De-Aging, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Wild (Linked Universe), First Impressions, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Fic, Kid Wild, Kid!Wild, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Miscommunication, Parental Time (Linked Universe), Protective Twilight (Linked Universe), Self-Esteem Issues, Time (Linked Universe) Needs a Hug, Wild (Linked Universe) Needs a Hug, Wild (Linked Universe)-centric, Wild got a few issues, Wild's mentally younger than his hyrule thinks, can i call this crack taken seriously?, hydrophobia, imposter syndrome, please bear with him he's trying his best, sheikah slate issues, wild child - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janazza/pseuds/janazza
Summary: In which Wild was actually just a kid when he woke up from the Shrine of Resurrection and finds a funky stone called a Sheikah Slate with some magical properties. If Purah can use technology to de-age, why can’t Wild gain a few years when he needs to?But then there's an accident at the worst time possible, and maybe Links aren't very good at explaining themselves . . . oops.Time isn’t happy.ORThe Kid Wild fic where Wild has to completely rely on people he thinks might have a few screws loose.
Relationships: Four & Wild (Linked Universe), Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Time & Wild (Linked Universe), Twilight & Wild (Linked Universe)
Series: Linked Universe Shenanigans [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021210
Comments: 132
Kudos: 606





	1. History and an Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> *Looks at my pile of WIPS*  
> *Looks at growing number kid!Wild fics*  
> “But AOC,” I say.  
> “But Tiny Wild,” says my dopamine.  
> . . . . goddammit. 
> 
> We’re gonna call this the shazam au because uhhhhhhhhh I can.

A pretty voice called . . . something. He thought it was . . . maybe a name. It didn’t stop. 

“Open your eyes,” it said, and stubbornly repeated until lashes fluttered and he saw blue. It shimmered like . . . It was slow going, but like water, something in him supplied. But it glowed like lights and he had water draining from his ears and a chill raking across a body. His body. 

Pudgy fingers that could bend gripped the side of the . . . basin? Coffin? Box? Storage unit? He didn’t know what some of those words meant at first, but he pulled himself up with skin tingling as feeling rushed to the bone. Blues and browns and dark and lights. This was annoying. He was cold, and his skin itched. The voice kept talking even as he wriggled his tiny toes and pulled himself to the edge of the basin. He plopped to the floor and nearly lost his balance. It was further than he expected and he stood, unsure, cold and shivering. 

But the lady (?) pointed out the stone in the corner of the room with the funny looking eye on its back, and it seemed to be its own light source but different from . . . actually, he had nothing to compare it to.

Sheikah slate. Important. 

The Lady said it would help him, and he didn’t understand why. But there were clothes in a chest too big for his frame and shoes that rubbed his heels, and there ahead was light not blue but pale and warm, not like the cold room and the basin. 

Then he was free, with miles and miles of greens and cloudless skies, and his mind slowly supplemented names to things the more he concentrated. He did not look back to the room with the basin.

* * *

The Old Man pointed to the slate and it’s many screens, or something. Files and entries like a diary, but they existed only in the little rectangular space of the stone box. But he could do magic. Apples dissipated into sparkles just to reappear at the touch of a button. Metals moved at his will, and time could even stop on an object, like it existed on a plane incomprehensible to laws.

The Old Man held his hand, so large compared to his own, and told him he was sorry for what he’d done though Link didn't understand. He told him to find a village in the mountains, and Lady Impa would guide him. Maybe she was the voice in his head.

* * *

She wasn’t, but she was very nice. Considering the guards outside tried to send him off to play with the other children until spotting the slate at his hip, he started to like her the most and the plate of honey buns between them that were quickly devoured. Of course, at the sight of him, she refused to guide him anywhere and pushed him right back out the door and into the hands of one of the guards. 

Dorian was his name, and he had two daughters just a little younger than him he wanted Link to meet once he finished his business with Miss Impa, and he marched Link to the inn’s bathhouse with a calming hand on his back. It reminded him of the basin, and he stood with unyielding feet in front of the tub, unsure what he did wrong to be put back in one. Dorian knelt beside him with fingers soothing shapes into his back, careful and knowing, and all too knowing because he was an adult. That’s what Brigo said. Adults knew everything. 

They switched to a steaming bucket and cloth, little glass bottles of colored liquids poured over hair that Hestu said was just like a bird’s nest. Dorian only paused when he first removed the ratty shirt, and the pinkish skin winding down his torso stood out starkly from his pale skin. The wound from a monster’s arrow he couldn’t outrun looked gross and needed to be cleaned. Twigs and knots did not come out easy, but Dorian was a patient man that spoke of his daughters playing in the forest on their search for fairies. It almost put him to sleep if not for his grumbling stomach.

By nightfall, with the grime removed from between his toes and and the cotton bed clothes Dorian offered soft against skin flushed with warmth, and something sweet clinging to his long, untangled hair, he sat in front of the old woman with the eye matching the Sheikah slate on her forehead with a blanket over his lap. He ate everything she put in front of him. The stablehand that took pity on him was no chef, and these cheese and jams were divine. He licked his fingers clean, savoring the butter from the breads stuck to them. In the afterglow, sleep felt so near. It was the first time since getting out of the basin that he didn’t worry of monsters finding him unaware. Waking up once about to be put over a fire was one too many. 

That was, until she told a story of fates and history and futures so far out of reach of his arm span, beyond the magic of the Sheikah slate but all revolving around him and a hundred years.

“Link,” she’d said, using the name the voice and the Old Man used. “You were too young for the task given to you, and much is still the case. I’m sorry.”

He was supposed to beat a monster, something that burned down his home, his kingdom, and stole his life once. How could doing the same thing over again yield different results? Impa told him he hadn’t even finished a year of knight training when he fell. 

She searched his face. “But I have an idea. It is not a kind one, but I hope you will come to understand.” She sat straight despite her age, and her smile was pained. “My dear sister has been hoping to meet you. I think you’d like her, but she was afraid she would not last long enough to get to see you and dabbled in technology beyond our comprehension. . . I believe her research is the key to defeating Calamity Ganon. When you are ready,” she said, setting forth a simple tethered binding of clothes, “this is for you.”

He did not go alone even though he wanted to. Instead, Dorian kissed his daughter’s foreheads in goodbye and waved for Link to follow close, and the two made their journey to Hateno. Link was curious and liked to ask questions, and the man was patient and answered only if he could teach Link to cook. Shame that he nearly gave the man a heart attack at every turn, disappearing or jumping straight into monster camps because he’d never seen that kind of boomerang before and Miss Fairy Lady said she needed Moblin teeth to strengthen his new boots. 

Hateno was large yet peaceful, and Purah was nothing like the soft bustling of the town. For one, she was shorter than even Link and energy barely contained in the lab’s walls. It was contagious. And the solution meant to give him the edge he never had before was a rune loaded onto his slate.

The first time he tested it, while Purah and her assistant held ink and paper at the ready, a flash of pale blue overtook him for only a moment and he nearly brought back up the breakfast Dorian made. His head spun like it sometimes did when he teleported when dimensions were strange and his hands felts like fragments of a dream. Then he noticed how far his eyes were from the ground, how his limbs stretched, the clothes unable to expand with him and taught against his skin, and just how short Purah was. He was almost Dorian’s height.

Dorian stared back. “The best your technology can do is, what, age eighteen?”

“Hey, you try calibrating time without tearing a hole in the timeline!”

“Timeline—?”

“Purah.”

He didn’t recognize his own voice. It was deep but still scratched where the scars ran down his throat.

“This is awesome!” 

He may not know everything, but he had a body that could swing a claymore, pull back the Rito’s finest bows, and the coordination to dodge a guardian’s light.

Except, however, the following day when in the middle of meeting a red Zora prince and his kingly father, the slate beeped annoyingly until light overtook his vision, and the Zora that already stood taller than him suddenly towered. 

The incantation had a time limit. 

And it turned out Mipha used to babysit him and Sidon. 

* * *

Being older had its perks. People took him seriously when he set his rupees on the table, and there was no “baby voice” coating their spouts of caution that a wild child somehow climbed the Hebra Mountains by himself (because, yes, he did. Now please let him try this snowling game).

But sometimes being a kid had its own bonuses because most vendors gave him discounts and maybe candy to snack on later. Sometimes he got a nice meal out of it.

But really, it was just sad none of those men could cook. 

One was blonde with an odd strip of pink in his hair. He dressed weird, too. “You serious? Kid would be better off starving to death than eating this!” 

“Look at him,” whispered one dressed even weirder, and are those tattoos on his face? “He’s been here half the day and not a parent in sight.”

“Twi, I swear to Hylia.” This one wore armor but a scarf over it. Did he know every monster in a mile proximity would think him easy game? “If he throws up, I don’t know you.”

Then another joined in, and their mock whispers grew in volume as more joined the fray. Link sat under a tree far away from whatever they were concocting in the stable's pot dabbling with the slate checking his stock. Zelda asked if he could bring her scrolls from Robbie, and he would once he checked out a few things. 

Though it was over, and things had quieted down, not all was well. Zelda, a young woman older than him by a few years, had a kingdom that had a hundred years to not be a kingdom,. A monarch that failed their parents and grandparents suddenly popping up wasn’t a pretty picture, especially when many still blamed the late king. Throw some political jargon in the mix, and Link tuned out pretty early. But the people were frustrated, for it seemed destroying a roaring beast the size of the castle wasn’t enough. Monsters grew more daring by the day, the Blood Moons mostly regular, and a Gerudo guard swore that a monster bled black—

“Hey.”

Link looked up from his slate to fluffy brown hair and a bright red apple under his nose. 

“You hungry?”

He sat with his legs crossed right in front of him, and Link hadn’t even noticed. His tunic was a forest green, that’s why, he told himself. Nonetheless, the young man still held the apple, and his smile turned sheepish. 

“Ah, sorry. I just saw you were by yourself, and thought maybe you didn’t have any money.” His eyes drifted to the left side of his—

Oh, he probably noticed the scars under his hood by then. He took the apple. “Thanks.”

He expected the guy to leave. His words brought a smile to the brunette’s face back in full force. “I’m Hyrule, by the way.”

Link quirked an eyebrow. “Your parents named you after the kingdom?”

Then came that sheepish look again, this time with an awkward scratch to his neck. “Actually, it’s a nickname. You can call me ‘Rulie if it helps. . . Is there anyone here with you?”

“Nah,” he answered before taking a bite from the offered apple. He wasn’t going to point out the twenty-eight other apples in his inventory. “Just waiting for any news to come in.” 

“I see. What’s your name?”

“Link.”

Ah, he should really be more careful who he gives his name out to, because ‘Rulie’s mouth opened like a guppy and brows furrowing as if he just witnessed Link grow hooves and a mane. Usually, if friendly Hylians knew that name, they had a story to tell, like how a mature Link saved them from monsters or climbed the divine beast, or maybe how teen Link road a rock like a mythical loftwing through the air just so he could be first in line to buy arrows off of Fyson. There were only a handful who knew both forms to be him, and most of those were people who knew him a hundred years ago. Others were accidents, like Beedle and mentioning something that young Link requested while standing in front of him with the rune’s magic in place. He took it pretty well, though, and didn’t scold him for trying to use his younger form to haggle for better prices.

“Oh, okay, cool. It’s a—uh, nice name.”

No, those who were silent or waved it off like that were dangerous.

The apple wasn’t bitter, and the guy obviously didn’t know it was him until he said his name. It was safe. But since when were Yiga so bold to travel into stables, especially with those numbers?

Eight. Eight Yiga would be staying under the stable’s roof.

What’s the worst that could happen?

* * *

Time had his head down kneading his temples for the oncoming headache when someone obnoxiously tapped at his shoulder too insistent after such a long day. This was the first settlement they’d seen after a full day and half of travel, and honestly? The luxury bed was starting to sound very appealing. 

“Time, Time, I think we have a problem.”

“Not now.”

“No, Time.” Hyrule leaned in close. “I think we just found another Link.”

The others, deafened by their own arguing, didn’t see the older man lift his head and follow Hyrule’s finger to the lone figure beneath a tree. He waited, expecting someone to come forward from the path or out of the forest, only to see the small figure wrapped in a cloak more fitting to be a blanket standing up. 

“He called himself Link.”

That can’t be . . . “The child?”

“He looks like he’s maybe ten? But there’s . . . ” Hyrule trailed off. “He’s seen battle.”

Those were dark words even among them and he looked out towards the edge of the stable. The kid was just a small bundle of limbs from a distance, not a soldier like Warrior or smothered in gold rings like Legend. It was. . . it was a shock to the system. This was the kid the rest were fighting over whether to feed something likely poisoned or leave them be. Speaking of, he thought as he boxed those thoughts away for now, “All of you, listen up. Change of plans.”

The fight dwindled and all eyes turned to him. 

“Seems we found . . . another one.” He nodded his head in the boy’s direction, except—

“He’s gone!” Shouted Hyrule.

“Who’s gone?” asked Wind, twisting in his seat at the fire. “Hey, the kid’s gone!”

“That was Link!”

“What do you— Oh, shit. No way. He’s tiny!”

Four had already pulled his sword back over his shoulder. “Height doesn’t make you a hero! Hurry up!” He was probably remembering how they lost Legend almost instantly after explaining their quest, the young man claiming he swore off adventures until next year at least. While it was funny in the moment, the implications hurt, especially considering how the next hero happened to be Wind and far too young. And now . . . 

* * *

Yah, they were definitely Yiga. Sitting up in his tree just out of sight, voices bumbled below him.

“Where’d he go?”

“Why is a little kid wandering around in the forest alone anyway?”

“Do we split up?”

Interesting, interesting. At least this meant they wouldn’t be attacking the stable tonight. He scrolled through the slate lazily debating between swords when the oldest sounded off. Groups of two. Easy pickings. The tall ones probably had wind cleavers, so he would go for the smaller ones first. 

Before climbing down, he let the rune take over him, shifting himself years older and able to execute his little plan, and switched to something quieter. The Sheikah were masters in stealth and their seamstress masters in their craft. He dropped silently from the tree. 

The one called ‘Rulie went off with the patchwork square wearing Yiga, the shortest, and the former cupped his hands around his mouth to shout, “Link!” 

He counted impatiently for a full two minutes before stalking after, creeping silently around fallen leaves and knotted tree roots. For assassins, they were loud, but that could be all a part of the act. Nonetheless, they were easy pickings.

* * *

“Link! Come on back, Link!” 

Climbing over a fallen log, Four felt that they were going about this too slow. He hoped Twi would just shift and track the kid’s scent so they could get awkward introductions over with. He remembered his own vividly and the peculiar stares that a seemingly young teen had his own smithing business. He didn’t think any of them believed his age anyway. “You think this Link is just short?”

Hyrule uncupped his mouth, waiting for a response that never came. “No. That was baby fat and . . . “ Trailing off, he turned to say something else only to suddenly go bug eye and launch straight into Four in half a second. “Duck!”

At impact, he gasped as the air was knocked from him right as the shadow of the fallen log they’d just left behind passed over them. It bounced against the forest floor while Hyrule drew his sword. 

“Show yourself!” What kind of monster could just chuck a giant log like that?

Barely catching the glint of metal in the day’s dying light, Hyrule caught the metal boomerang on his sword, and it clattered against the grass. Yet it was thanks to Four’s shield that the arrow didn’t imbed into his thigh, except for the fact it was electric. The shield flung from his spasming hands just as a dark figure raced forward. 

And in the soundless forest, its birds long since taking flight and critters burrowing, swords grazed. Hyrule could barely brace the monster’s momentum and the thing knew it because while he rooted his feet to keep balance, it used it’s force to spin to bring the blade once more and this time aiming lower. 

Yet Hyrule wasn’t foreign to surprise attacks and the words of the incantation slipped from his tongue with ease. The magic seeped from him, concentrating in his sword in only milliseconds before the sword was swallowed in flames. The monster had to abandon his attack to avoid the licking flames.

It was then he got a good look at their monster that wasn’t such a monster. Blonde hair held in a bun, body wrapped and shadow silks, only his eyes were visible, and they demanded blood. What kind of magic did they have to launch a log at them? Was it just strength? They had yet to see Hylians infected by the black blood, but . . . 

“Who are you?” demanded Four. 

The being only stared back with his weapon at the ready before rushing forward. Swords clashed, the attacker fierce in their heavy attacks that glanced off of Four’s shield nearly knocking him over each time. He fought in a style Hyrule had never faced, a mix of something he’d seen from Warrior but bits that reminded him of himself and something else. It was dirty. So dirty that when a strike should have nicked his sword arm, the blade bounced off a golden barrier. 

It dissipated just as the being swung down at the recovering Hyrule only for a small body to barrel into their side.

Four may be small, but he fought viciously, yet the size difference was too much. They rolled until Four was flush with the ground, a blade at this throat and the being barely panting.

* * *

Shouldn’t the Yiga have revealed themselves by now? Before him sat a young man, maybe boy too young indoctrinated to their cult, with eyes wide yet teeth gritted in defiance.

The next reaction was instinct, like the hairs rising on the back of his neck and a sense of dread that told him to _move,_ and Link jumped back before the beast’s jaws could sink into skin. Link kept crouched, listened to how the latest obstacle growled with lips drawn back to show rows of teeth: A wolf, dark and larger than any he’d seen in the wild. Since when did the Yiga tame beasts? 

It must be tainted like the black blooded moblins. 

It growled and Link raised his sword. 

As he adjusted for the latest to enter the small clearing, the soldier with the blue scarf too joined from the side. “Enough of this, stand down.” Link stepped back as he approached.

More joined, and Wild backed up until a blade appeared just before his shoulder, heavy and perfect for beheading. It was the leader’s. “Enough,” he said. 

Awesome, yah, okay. His palm had already been over the slate, and with practiced fingers his world turned to nothing only to reform to more wild forest and song birds. 

Rubbing his throat, he ran quickly as night drew near and slowed just to peer over the cliff side. Just through the trees he spotted them, still in the clearing and surveying their surroundings for him with swords still drawn. This time they didn’t separate.

He had to give them credit: they were strong and quick. He failed to lay a single injury on them. Was that why they didn’t reveal themselves as Yiga? Something was wrong. With the black blooded moblins and rumors about, Link feared what was to come.

. . . He would keep an eye on them. For now, he would watch, let the adrenaline develop into shaking limbs and carefully soothing the throat still intact. We would let the rune recharge until they showed themselves to be a threat. 

* * *

So apparently this land gets their news from word of mouth, and Traysi’s Rumor Mill. Small poster boards rested inside stables with warnings and letters needing to be carried to other stables and towns. To be frank, Twilight was starting to believe these towns don’t exist. 

Rumor Mill claimed something was wrong with the woods in the area. Beasts screamed in the night like howling wolves and squealing pigs. It was like they were gathering, swarming and festering. Travel with caution until the hero clears them out, it said. It’s why they headed in this direction anyway before they heard of another Link. 

The stablehand was a matured man that leaned against his counter almost bored. **“I** ndeed, there’s been growing numbers. You can hear them through the night trashing up the forest. It’s annoying.” His face said it all. The stable itself still seemed to bustle like the other one the heroes had stayed in nights before. The only difference was the growing presence of weapons on travelers’ backs and hips. Twilight figured they were maybe gearing up to start an assault. A few looked like the mercenary type. “I sent word across the stables to send Link my way to handle it. He should be here any day to deal with it.”

The boys were silent, their curiosity bitten. Twilight looked to his mentor to see they shared the same stony look. But where Twilight was heated and sickened, Time was cool. Time hardly showed anger, hardly reacted to much, if he was honest and laughed off things that should hurt. But now, Time’s smile did not reach his eyes. “That won’t be necessary.” It was monotone but a promise, and the stablehand quirked an eyebrow. “We don’t mind completing coward’s errands. Come along.” A hand gripped the youngests’ shoulders to twirl them around and directly into the forest with the rest of them, eyeing each other with a mix of shock and anger, starting to follow.

Only Sky held his gaze with the stablehand. The words were slow but harsh. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” Twilight couldn’t agree more, but now wasn’t the time. They had an appointment with whatever hid in that forest. Their divine mission was these beasts, and this was for the better. Let Link have someone else handle it for a change. The stablehand only watched bewildered as eight (mostly) young men took these monsters on their own. The stablehand hadn't even lifted his head, still casually bored and perhaps thinking they'd already been defeated.

* * *

Link was never the type to leave a stone unturned, so while the Yiga seemed to be chatting up the travelers at the stable (they hadn't attacked the previous stable, so they must be working towards something else), Link figured he could check out the forest the other traveler’s he’d spoken to had mentioned. 

The Faron woods were quiet these days up until now. Link figured that with the spring of courage so close that the monsters were repelled by it, perhaps, yet rumors said otherwise.

Just inside the path of winding Zonai ruins were dozing bokoblins on watch. Arrows found their marks easily. Silence in a forest was never welcome. It meant the wildlife knew something you didn’t, and Link had learnt that the hard way many times. He kept the bow he nicked off a Yiga at the ready. He crept silently in the Sheikah armor just in case. Monsters were not unknown to ambush, and what is there to ambush when they didn’t know you were there? Another arrow to a scout. 

The ground was slick from rainfall, but it’s to be expected from the tropical forest. Trees hung like canopies and air remained thick with perspiration. He should think of charming his regular boots with silencing gems and fibers to avoid any slips. 

He took refuge up high to overlook the first camp and counted.

. . . There were more than he thought there’d be. It’s a swarm. Fire barrels stood at the edges maneuvered by blins directed by the largest. Never had he seen them so organized, and he figured they must be planning something. After all, to be at this number just a mile out from the spring of courage. . . 

The woods were slightly valleyed with some clearings but tended to be like bowls dipping low. Link had ideas. This many and with the recent rainfall would be difficult but at the same time become an environmental advantage. He counted his electric arrows just as a party of eight entered the woods. 

* * *

Wind would have slipped flat on his back if not for Warrior’s steadying hand. Beneath his breath, Warrior swore he said, “And they wanted to throw a kid out here.”

Warrior smiled, though it came out more like a grimace. “You’re not much an adult yourself.”

“Yah, but I can at least hold my sword.” He shrugged off the hand and walked ahead next to Time. It seemed none of them were taking the day’s information well. First they learn Link is probably just a small child based off Hyrule’s interaction, then it turned out this era’s Hylians didn’t mind sitting back and having a little kid deal with hoards by themselves. It was a little too close to home for Warrior, but at least he had fellow soldiers to fall back on, and he didn’t see war until he turned sixteen. The youngest in his regime were fourteen and picked out of desperation. 

Were these people that desperate? Maybe. But he could smell the baking pies just inside that stable. 

The entourage paused at Time’s raised fist, a sign of halt. Wind looked back and mouthed the word “camp.” 

Creeping forward, he saw it. Really, he should have heard it before now. Dragging hooves and stomping feet, the monsters were familiar and not. Wind pointed out bokoblins and their size and color. “They don’t grow to that size, right?” 

If they did, then this land’s moblins outweigh all of theirs. They were likely infected. Warrior turned to Time. “We need a plan or we’ll be overrun.” 

The older man nodded, surveying the monsters crowding around fires with meat roasting. They were relaxed, unsuspecting, but there were many, many monsters, and he didn’t think they stopped in this one valleyed clearing. “First we—”

Not one, but two explosions cut off Time’s next words, and the cries of monsters stopped him from trying to continue. 

Another went off just to the left of their position, and the heroes turned away from the heat. Monsters started to take notice of the eight figures at the trail’s edge by then and gave out war cries. Swords drawn, Legend sighed deeply. “Since when do plans ever go our way, anyway?” 

They bolted forward.

Though the bokoblins growled and swung spiked clubs and sharp lances, their dark blood still spilled. Warrior countered attack after attack, pivoting just right to avoid lances through the abdomen and clubs to his scalp. 

Then the hairs on his head felt weightless for just a moment, something in the air catching his attention, before Hyrule and Legend scream out for them to move. The latter shoved into Warrior’s back, nearly knocking them to the ground when the clearing flashed with light followed by a thunderous clap. The lightning left the smell of ozone and cooked meat. 

Eyes turned to the dropping blins until only a single being stood at the center of the lightning’s radius. 

And Warrior recognized him instantly. Really, this assassin had no care for his allies?

* * *

Link cursed beneath the Sheikah mask. 

It seemed the Yiga and monsters were working together, as the eight Hylians stood before him once more. He couldn’t take them on, but he had a mission: he needed to know what they were planning. 

So despite how the blue scarfed one held his sword to him in taunt, Link’s fingers easily danced over the slate until a blue glowing sphere appeared in his palm. Most beings knew to get out of its way, but the eight seemed unperturbed. Fine. Follow him if they liked. He dropped it at his feet and booked it deeper into the woods.

“Stop!”

He didn’t look back when he detonated the bomb and sighed in relief at their shouts. That should slow them down. Monsters were closing in, he realized. They were everywhere, and his bow found their place swiftly. But he didn’t so much as take up the cliff sides and zonai ruins. Puddles of muddy water took up most of the path nearly tripped him at every turn. Arrows of both ice and fire barely missed his feet, but he couldn’t stop. 

He turned another corner when—

That wasn’t supposed to be there.

A lizalfos kicked the Hinox’s side, and the giant’s one eye opened instantly. Dammit, Hylia. 

There were so many, but he could do this. Just pick off the little guys first before the Hinox, if you could call the overgrown Moblin tiny. He jumped back from the Lizalfo’s pounce and weaved between bokoblins, his strikes with his sword precise, but nonstop movement was making him breathe heavily. He pulled up a wooden shield just before an arrow could imbed in his shoulder, but at the fire arrow, he had to let go as flames engulfed it. Daruk’s shield took the brunt of a Lizalfo’s swing, but it shattered beneath the Moblin’s club. 

Thus there was nothing stopping the electric arrow that pierced his leg or the shocks that wracked his body, the sword flinging from his hands. It also meant he could not dodge the Moblin’s swipe. Instead he went rolling, falling straight into the muddied puddle. Senses blurred until coming in sickenly crisp. As a shadow encompassed him, he barrel rolled, barely dodging the Hinox’s stomp, and he scrambled to his feet and away from its grasping fingers. 

Link just had to get some distance between them. It was fine. There was still another few hours left on the aging run, and this body knew how to get the upperhand. Or he could try to run forward to find whoever had planned this, but if he didn’t handle it now, the stable—

His thoughts and feet suddenly no longer understood themselves, and he went tumbling. 

He looked up, realizing instantly that he was lower to the ground than he should be, that his arms legs didn’t reach through the entire Sheikah uniform, and he patted at his hip frantically to realize the slate no longer hooked to his hip. Did he drop it? 

Link jumped to his feet only to be tripped by his own clothes while the stomping Hinox was getting closer. He wriggled like a feral animal trapped beneath a sheet until he was just in the spandex underpants, leaving the soiled clothes to be trampled by the Red Hinox’s feet and be lost to the mud. He ran with legs too short. Where’s the slate? 

He tried to circle around, but without a weapon, the bokoblins and lizalfos realized the easy pickings before them. Shit, shit, shit. He pivoted and booked it for the trees, tripping on winding roots and slippery grass. He was still barefoot and an arrow’s wound at his right calf. He wouldn’t make it.

He glanced every which way, looking for any escape only to see a fallen hollowed log. He slid into it, crouching and breathing heavily. Please, come on, just pass him already! 

Link’s heart raced a mile a minute as thunder steps drew closer, monsters of all sizes searching for his scent, and he could only hope the mud would mask their senses. He just needed them to pass, and he could make a run towards the muddied puddles he fell in to search for the slate. He could still win. He just needed the slate. 

But since when did he ever have lady luck on his side? A pudgy clawed hand grasped wildly in front of him, and he crawled back away from it’s sharp talons only for something to clasp his ankle.

Link cried out as he was pulled from the log, his world whirling and upside down as the beasts cheered at their catch. He could feel the monster’s hot ugly breath as it sniffed him, and Link smacked the snout as soon as it was in reach. It did little to deter it. Breathing heavily at the weight of the situation, Link’s mind ran scenario after scenario. 

Not here, not now. Not after everything. He aimed again for the moblin’s stupid face only to receive a heaping laugh. His arms couldn’t reach, his injured leg couldn’t kick. Hair kept getting in his eyes that were starting to blur. Link wasn’t one to cry, but it was hard in this form to control it. He swung his arms madly and shouted, “Put me down!”

Then it did, and Link feared from such a drop at this size and angle the pain that would surly leave him seeing stars. 

But it never came, instead arms gripped him, and an ominous thud sounded the moblin’s death.

He wriggled in their grasp, shouting to be let go, the adrenaline painful for his chest and the air he couldn’t catch.

Link didn’t see how more monsters fell to arrows and swords until he realized the source of his captor. 

“It’s okay,” they kept saying.

‘Rulie. Hyrule. 

He still held Link to their chest with his chin against muddy hair. It was only when he saw the pink haired one’s arrow sink into the Hinox’s eye that he stopped fighting him. The one with the face tattoos was fast, coming in to strike the soft flesh of its legs and jump away before it could catch him. The soldier with the scarf simply smited its hand like a bored god with the fire rod he held, the giant beast flinching back and waving its hand from the pain just as an arrow found its throat, then another. 

The Hinox fell forward from the pain, on its knees, and it’s fat stomach the perfect height for the leader and their claymore.

Link looked away, pressing into the chest that continued to recite reassurances. It grew quiet except for heavy breaths and his sniffling. It was over. The worst possible scenario was over— ha! — not that it could get worse. He actually laughed at himself because what could be worse? In his underwear covered in mud consoled by the same young man he thought was planning to kill him. _Almost killed with the bomb._

When a new hand rested on his shoulder, he flinched.

It lifted quickly, and the voice was younger than he expected. “Hey, you okay?” 

Link turned his head to see the one in the blue tunic, spotting the bandages around the young man’s head. Those weren’t there earlier. 

Tears welled up again. He was so stupid. 

The hand returned to his shoulder as he wiped his runny nose. What would Zelda have thought if he never returned? The men were starting to gather around him when he finally could breathe normally. Each were so strong, it was incredible. They all held their own with ease, much like his older self, but even he couldn’t beat them before. Around him were saddened faces. One with a red sash around his stomach weakly smiled, guiding his sword to its sheath—

No, no, no.

Hyrule, not expecting it, failed to stop him from pushing away from his chest and jumping to his feet even with the injured leg, because before Link held in the strangers hands was none other than the sword that should be stored away in the slate.

“Where is it!?”

“Whoa, kid, you shouldn’t be walking-”

“Did he hit his head?”

“No, I caught him—”

“Where’s my slate!? Give me back my sword!”

Something seemed to dawn on their faces then, the leader and the Master Sword stealer sharing a look. The leader said, “We have much to explain, little one.”

“Where’s my slate?” he demanded. 

“What’s he talking about?” the short one asked, which was a stupid question. 

Hyrule must have gotten up. “Do you— is the slate that stone thing you had the other day?”

“Duh! Where is it?”

Hyrule grimaced. “Okay. Umm, I saw it, but it’s not pretty. I’m sorry.” 

“Where?”

“It was in the mud, but — hey! You shouldn’t run with your leg like that!”

He didn’t care. They had the sword. They had _the_ sword, and they were being weird. This wasn’t safe, and he needed to get big again so he can hand their asses to them. The barbarian armor would be enough, and though they knew about his bombs, they were in for a surprise when he used his other runes—

He stopped.

The Sheikah slate came in sight, and the ill feeling in his stomach grew in weight. Link hobbled forward to the muddy ground where he fell earlier and picked up the remains of the slate.

It’s screen flickered but nothing showed except the webbing cracks. Not just anything could break it. More than once it’d taken a blade to its screen and remained intact. The hinox . . .

He hated tiny form sometimes, because he felt strongly and too much when it wasn’t the right time, when his almost killers and maybe captors were looking at him but the one thing that’s been with him since Link woke up sat heavy in his hands cracked and unresponsive and —

He hiccupped. Damnit. He was crying again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kid.” It was Hyrule that said that but the one with tattoos kneeled beside him to rub his upper back like Dorian. He tried to turn away to hide how puffy his cheeks were getting. The survivalist in him said to pull away before those soothing touches turned to claws or blades, but what was the point?

It wasn’t . . . 

“We’ll—” one said, looking around him at the other men. “We’ll fix it.”

He paused. Why? Weren’t they going to kidnap him? Take him to their real leader? If they weren’t Yiga, who were they? Link was starting to think there was a lot he was missing. The red sash wearer still held the Master Sword.

A thwack to the back of the speaker’s head seemed to say otherwise. A whisper warned, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

But he was right . . . Maybe Purah and Robbie could. Funny how on instinct Link meant to open the map, except the screen was dark and cracked. Miss Purah was on the other side of Hyrule . . . But what other choice did he have?

Fine. He nodded to himself with his mind made up, hooking the broken slate to his hip and wiping his face.

Until then, he glared at them. “Give me back the Master Sword.”

Apparently it wasn’t very threatening because the one with the pink stripe poorly hid his laugh in a cough.

“It’s not yours.”

“About that, Link,” said the sword stealer, kneeling down to his height, “there is much you don’t know. Will you listen to a story?”

“Should we make camp?” asked the blue tunic one.

The leader shook his head. “Too many monsters. We’ll bandage and return to the stable.”

No, no they wouldn’t. But they weren’t trying to kill him or tie his hands back. He didn’t trust them. Few learned to raise a blade at their skill level, and to never have heard of them was daunting, an omen. However, they currently weren’t going to kill him, so he would take his wins where he could.

He sighed too deeply for his real age. “Fine.” Hands guided him away from the mudpit that he smacked away, the slate gripped against his chest, and soon he was settled on a large rock while Hyrule took a look at his leg, a water skin at his side to wash away the blood and mud. 

“Do you have any clothes?”

“Ya—” he started only to cut off. The slate in his hands was brittle in his uncoordinated hands. “Not anymore.” He grit his teeth, and pressed his chin against his chest to avoid their gazes. Not only was he stranded, the map inaccessible, he couldn’t even clothe himself. What kind of hero—?

The one with tattoos was very close, leaning down to catch his eyes. “Here,” he said, offering a simple white tunic. Behind him, Link noticed the one with the colorful tunic resetting his belt and his arms bare. This is . . . strange. He took the undertunic warily as Hyrule held out a red vial.

“Drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”

Hmm, no that looked like poison. “I’m good.”

Apparently ‘Rulie didn’t expect that and startled slightly. “I mean, I know they don’t taste great, but you need something for your leg.”

Link only stared back. 

Slight panic crept to his face until he looked over to the tattooed man to take over. “You’re hurt.”

Link grit his teeth, waiting for them to try to pry his mouth open. If he had access to the slate, he could fix himself up no problem, but that wasn’t an option, and these men . . . They might not be Yiga, but they weren’t trustworthy, yet. A sleeping potion could make him easy cargo.

The man sighed. The cork had already been pulled for him and the man brought it to his own lips and sipped, swallowing a quarter of it. Then they waited, watching each other and for side effects. There were none, and the man held out the vial once more. Link took it and sipped slowly. Gross, but not bitter. 

Once he pulled the white tunic over his head — it reached past his knees and his feet's only cover was someone's unwashed socks — the one with the red sash smiled at him. “We should walk and talk. These woods don’t seem too safe right now. I’m Sky, by the way.”

“We could use a cleaning, too,” agreed the blue scarfed one. It was now he noticed the mud that coated the remains of it, about a foot a two missing from the length he remembered. Seemed like a monster took advantage like Link figured, not that he looked any better. His hair clumped from the mud and dirtied the white tunic.

“It’s a long way back to the stable.”

No, no. Link needed to get to Purah. She could fix this. Looking at the group of men, he worked his jaw before deciding to test them. He was on his feet, though shaky, in seconds.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“Go away.”

“Wait, Link! We can’t just leave you to wander all by yourself.”

An interesting defense. They weren’t forcing him still or tying him up, but they would obviously follow and that would keep the Master Sword close by. “I’ve done it before. I don’t need your help!”

“With no protection?”

“I have—” he started only to freeze. He couldn’t reach the weapons menu. He already knew this, but the action was so engrained it hurt.

He turned back to the group and the man that held a sword to his throat only the day before. They might not be Yiga, but they were weird, weirder than Robbie. Okay. “Fine, I know a shortcut.” In other words, he knew which way was east, the very wrong way to the highland stable. “Trade a story for a shortcut?”

Oh, that may have been too much. The pink striped one looked at him oddly, but Link’s attention was on the leader, the biggest danger to his plan and physical well-being. He wasn’t dumb, this guy, but Link didn’t need them to be. He just needed someone to humor him long enough until he could reach someone to at least get him a sword.

“This is a long story,” said the old man with a small smile. Was that supposed to be a joke? “Lead the way.”


	2. Child of Faron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: if y’all saw the early version of chapter 1, just note we are now going East towards Lurelin rather than Lake Hylia .
> 
> Thank you for being patient with me! I have one more final this week, then I’m free~.

_Black ichor combined with the morning’s rain, and as soon as Time turned to tell this hero, this little boy, that he would not have to fight anymore, Link pulled himself from Hyrule’s grasp and had that same look he himself had for anyone that wasn’t Navi._

* * *

The monsters were downed too quickly, not for the way that Link cried in Hyrule’s arms, the older boy— just a boy— pulling a mere child against his chest like he would fall apart at the seams. Memories and reality shifted too close to home for Twilight. He saw how that moblin raised its club, the feral child just a spitting cat in its grasp, and if not for Legend’s arrow, they may have been too late.

They were lucky, so lucky, that the Sheikah dawning assassin hadn’t found this little kid first. Even after the Hinox fell and blins bled, none felt secure. Time kept his biggoron sword rooted, hands around its hilt as it stood vertical like a knight on guard. They knew firsthand what not having your guard up meant, and an example had bandages around his head trying to get this newest Link to stop crying. 

Even with his sword put away, Twilight's fists tightened. Too close. Wind was too close. This Link was too close. 

And after all of it, Link stared at them like they were the monsters that nearly trampled him. 

What did he see in the eyes of these Links? What did he experience for it to take Twilight testing the potion for him to trust it? He thought of Colin picking up a sword telling him that he would never be weak again. 

Why— dear Hylia, why— was one of her chosen alone without a weapon or even a shirt? It could be funny in some context, a prank, but no one laughed at how the moblin raised its club. 

And yet gripping Hyrule’s tunic with terrored tensity, he still looked at them with untrusting eyes and offered a shortcut. Twilight wasn’t stupid. He’d seen how Legend shared a look with Time, but the older man had only given a minuscule shake of his head before Link’s eyes fell to him, slightly crouched as if ready to bolt in just a too long tunic and Wind's dirty socks. 

But Time only smiled. “Lead the way.”

Twilight had never been one to question Time, but he did in that very moment, because it was obvious Link was headed west deeper into the jungle like forest and dipping south still sent them down a linear path no closer to the stable. Not that Link would listen to them anyway.

Which was how as Sky spoke, Link avoided the offered hand every time he nearly slipped. These lands weren’t kind to socked feet and all offers to carry him were instantly shut down. He walked even with the bandages on his leg peeking out from the oversized tunic. 

Sky continued with a story he well knew, having been one of the first to join in this bizarre adventure. “Time after time, again— err, not Time, but like flow of time— a hero has stepped in. Your history must have spoken of—” Sky continued only to reach out a hand to grip the barely balanced Link before he could faceplant. 

And said Link ripped away from a second later to put several feat between them. “I don’t need your help.”

Twilight didn’t get why he wouldn’t even accept a hand after almost getting cleaved in half. It it were Beth, she would be still holding onto anyone's tunic for comfort. No, what they had was a very confused, vulnerable kid that wouldn’t believe a single word they said and smacked caring hands away. It reminded him of Talo in a fit. 

Behind him, Legend conversed with Time, just far enough to be out of Link’s earshot. Without looking back, he knew that annoyed frown that painted Legend’s face. “You got a reason why we’re listening to a brat?”

Time had been mostly quiet, surveying the forest in search of hungry eyes that would think them easy targets. None of them had really let their guard down, but the smile to his voice was a surprise. “Surely you remember being so young and hating how adults talked like you couldn’t know anything. He isn’t dumb.”

Twilight would say otherwise. After all, they found him in just his shorts dangling from a moblin’s hand. 

“Treat him with respect and he might just respect you.” Oh, Twilight remembered those words from just a month before about their now second shortest, and Twilight cringed. Though Four had incredible patience, one too many times bending over to talk to him like he was some infant brought a well placed kick to exposed shins. Warrior avoided him for a week straight. By the time they picked up Wind, they knew better, not that it stopped Twilight’s careful watching.

Still, this Link wasn’t secretly sixteen. He is very much seven years old, the most eleven. He could still be losing baby teeth, and such a thought pained him. Seeing Wind sidle up beside the little Link was a reminder of just how easy it is to slip up. The bandages pulled his hair oddly but it was fortunate he could walk straight with no signs of concussion. 

“And now we’re here by fate. Hylia has called for us together for one more adventure, it seems, and you are the latest we have met. It’s an honor to meet such a brave hero as yourself,” Sky complimented though voice strained. Maybe he was thinking the same mantra of “damn, Hylia,” as he himself picked up in the middle of his own quest. 

Link didn’t seem to react to it, focus seemingly on the treeline and the river they followed. 

"Well, any questions?"

Link looked over, studying Sky top to bottom with a soured expression. "Nope."

* * *

“Let’s stop here.”

Link turned like he’d been caught red handed, but Time only pulled off his pack, winding his shoulders back. Serves the kid right. It was obvious to Legend this kid wasn’t taking them back to the stables, and a small bit of satisfaction bloomed seeing him panic. Really, Legend just wanted to kick his feet up and enjoy a hot meal, preferably not tasting like Ganon’s backside.

“Finally!” Wind dropped down right where he stood. “My feet are killing me!” 

“Seconded,” agreed Sky as he unbuckled his sail cloth to inspect it. Like many of them, his clothes were not safe from the mud puddles and blood from their fight. A glance at Warriors reminded him of the scarf’s new shortened length. “Could use a clean up while we’re at it and some lunch.”

Legend noticed the minor wince from their youngest then scolded himself for not getting Twilight to feed him anything earlier. Who knew how long Link had been out there or without supplies. Actually, did this kid even have a guardian? Judging by his looks, hair too long and manners ugly, still smothered in mud, probably not. They’d stopped at a small open space with a shallow bank to the river, Legend settling against a large rock beside Link who fiddled with his hands as the rest bustled about or flopped down to rest. He dug through his bag for the likely bruised apples to hand out.

Hyrule sighed, pulling his overtunic over his shoulders. The thing was filthy. “C’mon, Link.” Already, he went to sit before the river waters, letting the current pull from the tunic blood and the mud from holding Link, possibly snot at the shoulder. Gross.

Then it came to the kid, the one still smothered in mud that barely sat still for Hyrule to treat his wound and put on Four’s tunic without thought to wipe himself off first. Typical of kids, Legend knew, but he didn’t miss Four’s annoyed look. Indeed the socks were worse, if not for the stains then the holes that were certainly going to open up soon would get them quickly thrown out. 

Except the kid didn’t move. In fact he hadn’t moved from his spot near Legend since they began to settle. 

When Twilight took notice, he beckoned the kid over. “Link, let’s go.”

Legend groaned— at this close, he swore he could smell weeks of wandering in the woods, worse than even the traveler— and gave his back a shove. Should’ve known he would be a brat. “Hurry up.” 

Maybe Legend should have noticed how rigid he’d stood, because he stumbled forward just to whirl around with widened eyes. “Don’t touch me!” Loud, aggressive and shrieked. The boy backed up with that slate held in a knuckle white grip while Legend raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t touch me.” 

And maybe it took him longer to realize it wasn’t defiance.

“Okay, okay, — it’s okay.” Hyrule back at it again with Wind half dressed at his side, then Twilight thinking he would have to break something up. The traveler went to steer the boy away at his shoulder.

It took him longer than it should have to see his grit teeth didn’t match the terror in his eyes, how he swatted at Hyrule’s hand and backed up far too fast for someone just annoyed for being told to take a quick dip in the river.

“Everyone, back up.” Time. Always Time. The man didn't even need to raise his voice for everyone to look to him. “Hey, Link, I need you to calm down for me,” he said as those that had circled to watch moved back. Legend stood up to do the same after catching the older man’s eye. “You think you can do that?” Time kneeled close, not touching but in his line of sight even as the kid breathed loudly. “Focus on me.”

Time took exaggerate breaths, steady and slow, audible to Legend though he went to join Warrior at the river bank with his abandoned book on his lap. “Nice going.”

“Shut it." He plopped down beside the captain, setting his bag aside. "Kids are so needy.”

“You don’t really think that,” commented Warrior, leaning against his palms to look back where Time spoke in a hushed tone. “He’s just like the rest of us.” 

_How so_ , he could ask though he knew the answer. Nightmares plagued at least one of them most nights. “I’m starting to think this place is just the Travelers but green.”

“That’s one way to put it. Time was telling me he thinks Link is taking us to Hyrule Castle secretly.”

Legend hummed in thought. “Throw us in jail? Execution?”

“I mean, he probably still thinks we took the Master Sword. . . Heads up.” Warrior nodded past Legend’s shoulder to the approaching duo, Time taking casual slow steps carrying a towel and soaps with Link hesitantly by his side. The redness of his cheeks stood out.

“Should we move?”

Warrior picked up his book again and turned the page. “Nah, just don’t draw attention.” 

Fine, he could do that. He still had a bruised apple he meant to give out. Everyone by now would be digging through their own stashes. He munched rather boredly, listening to the bustling birds and spotting the occasional critter across the river bank. 

He spared a glance over and noticed the kid had finally dressed down and filthy but hadn’t even dipped his toes into the river. If it was Legend he would have pushed him in by then . . . But Time instead sat crouched at the water's edge on the opposite side where Link had set down the broken box thing with soaps and a sponge just to hand them to Link. Again he didn’t move forward, instead taking the sponge across his arm to begin wiping off the excess muck. Then he tapped Time’s shoulder to douse the sponge once more.

Huh. 

The kid still seemed on edge, glancing behind him as if suspecting one of them to come up behind, and it was starting to make a little too much sense.

Looking away, he stared at the passing current taking fallen leaves with it.

It was — it was behavior that reminded Legend of himself after leaving _her_ , when the ocean seemed to threaten to take a man into dream after dream until reality was nothing more than the lightning strike painting blistering feathers to skin. It took much coaxing and mocking of his own cowardice to push his boat back in the water months later and even longer to not dream nightly of capsizing and waking to islands that were never there. 

He really was like the rest of them.

Legend meant to get up and let Hyrule know not take any of it personally just to be drawn back to this damn kid again. He didn’t mean to stare, but how couldn’t he?

One evening in a topic of scars, Warrior pulled off his glove and exposed the warped burns that took up his left hand. For being such a pretty boy skirt chasing when they scored a night in town, it was a permanent mark and hard to look at. The fever days after nearly took his life, he told them. Legend didn’t want to think how lucky a boy that barely reached his chest had to be to still be able to stand.

Scraping away mud and grime from his torso revealed that same shade of warped skin on his cheek Legend had hoped was just a birthmark. He looked away, but the image of burns twisted across a bony arm and chest, licking through muscle and tendon with malicious history imprinted in his mind. Warrior had looked up by then and shared the same dawning horror. 

Something was very wrong with this Hyrule.

* * *

Wind was homesick. He’d been missing Aryll and Grandma terribly even before they ran into Link, and his presence only tenfold the feeling. 

He seemed nice! Quiet, kind of like Hyrule when they first met and a little cagey with the broken Sheikah box in hand. After washing up, he put back on the dirty tunic but someone else’s donated socks. At least his hair wasn’t clumped together anymore. 

It was while Link tried to finger comb the knots out that Wind approached with a peace offering in hand.

“Hey, you hungry?”

His fingers stopped, eyes glimpsing at him and studying the jerky held out to him. 

“It’s boar. I promise it’s edible.” 

Unlike with the potion, Link slowly took the piece, studying it before nibbling at its edges. Taking his wins where he could, Wind settled down beside him, just under a large tree and winding roots. 

“No one here is much of a cook, but they can at least cure meat right . . . most of the time.” He laughed to himself until noticing Link didn’t join in. He coughed. “So, Link, why are you out here by yourself?”

The boy paused mid bite, eyes watching or buying time, before he spoke. “Monsters. They don’t usually gather here.”

“By yourself?”

“I was fine.”

“Hmm, yes,” Wind agreed dryly, rubbing his chin in thought. “A good definition of fine.”

“I was! Until you all showed up! I had it handled, but then you—” he bit back with eyes a little too wide, looking around as if waiting for something. 

“Well, we’re happy we could help you. It can be scary on your own.”

“Sure.”

Okay, that didn’t go as planned. Wind bit into his own strip and chewed methodically, hoping Linking would break the ice like kids normally did. Aryll always had a dozen questions at the ready. He didn’t. So Wind asked, “How old are you anyway?”

Apparently this was easier to answer. Link shrugged. “Dunno.”

Oh, okay. Wind would guess him to be eight or nine like his sister. Link was just short of a growth spurt and still losing baby fat. Maybe. It was hard to tell with the scars, his focus often shifting without thinking. His Grandma would definitely pinch his cheeks and tell him how impolite he was acting. 

But also— “Won’t your family get worried you’re out here? I know Grandma always worries, and my sister says she’ll just fall over from boredom if I’m gone too long.”

“Nope.”

“They don’t care?”

“Don’t have family.” 

Oh. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. . . Y’know,” Link started, “if you miss your grandma so much, why don’t you go home?”

Wind blinked away his surprise. At least Link was talking in more than three words. “I mean, I have a duty, just like everyone else here to fight for the greater good—for a future, y’know? You heard Sky’s story, and ours. I couldn’t just sit back and watch the waves.”

Link huffed, sounding annoyed. This wasn’t how he planned for this to go. He thought this Link was pretty cool, being so young like him, and he wanted to ask about his story so bad, but Time already said it was better not to ask. He wished there was at least someone to give him an idea of what this era had gone through or some common ground.

“Uh, so is there a kingdom here? I mean, there isn’t one in mine, but Zelda— she goes by Tetra by the way— is like a remnant of the royal family. You know any princesses?” 

“I’m gonna go pee.” Link stood up abruptly before Wind could respond, that slate in hand as always to the edge of the small clearing. Sky glanced over yet Wind could only shrug. Maybe he pushed too hard. Link didn’t seem to be upset, at least not on questions that had hard answers. He couldn’t imagine not having his grandma and sister around. However, if Wind and learnt anything, it was that there was always a Link and Zelda.

. . . But where is his Zelda? 

* * *

Link didn’t get it. They put up with him and gave him clothes. Mr. Time didn’t think it was stupid he wouldn’t go in the river, and though they were no chefs and hoarding rations, Wind gave him a piece of his jerky. For a moment, he wondered if they were fattening him up for dinner. It was the best explanation, right? They suck at cooking because Link’s the main course. Mr. Robbie would probably give him that look like he said something weird. 

But really . . .

_. . . They’re mocking him, weren’t they?_

He wasn’t stupid because the story they were trying to sell him smelled of bullshit (Robbie would cuff him for saying that). It didn’t share the tone of Impa’s story with foreboding familiarity. This was like the nighttime stories Mr. Dorian tried to read to him, and he thought them stupid. 

And they all thought _him_ stupid. 

Who goes by the number four or warrior? Mr. Time probably pulled the name right out of Koko’s fairytale books. Did they sick Wind on him because they thought he would open up to him? That he’d spill all his secrets and give them Zelda’s location? Wind was so indoctrinated into whatever this is, he didn’t even realize. 

Zelda liked to remind him that he was very smart for his age even though he didn’t believe her. Not a scholar, but maybe he liked to think he could smell out liars, and they all reeked of it. So maybe Link didn’t think anything of it, his broken slate in hand and a small coin purse, when he walked with a measly excuse and kept going.

Liars don’t just give you clothes and follow you wherever you go, but neither do travelers unless you're Traysi looking for a story. Always a little something in return. They knew, they had to know Link was taking them somewhere else by then, and the other shoe could be a dainty flat or bring out their true colors. 

He wouldn’t stick around to find out. 

Maybe they were newly deserted Sheikah. He hadn’t seen Impa in some time, but they should have all recognized each other. It didn’t make sense that they all just showed up out of nowhere. 

Whatever. He would ask Purah and Zelda. They would know what to do and can fix the slate so he can take them on again if need be. He wouldn’t need to hope they give him clothes and food because he could go back to handling himself.

And he’d say he was doing pretty fine anyway. He knew the stablemaster had a son just a few years older, and a quick story and rupee meant he finally possessed shoes and a small pack. He tucked away the slate with the bananas he picked on his way in plus a canteen. A Gerudo took pity and sold him a scimitar for half of what she herself had paid for. He’d dealt with worse, but even then he had the slate with all its technology. Now, it sat in his bag as deadweight. It felt strange to not have it in his line of sight, a familiar weight at his hip when he walked now gone. The eye on the back flickered faintly but the screen remained dull. 

Unfortunately, wallowing in self pity wouldn’t get him anywhere. He thanked the Lakeside stablehand because there was nothing else he could do. This man would never let him take out any of his horses because of his age (he tried). While he loved the density of greenery and humid air, so different to the rolling fields and mountain passes, he learnt long ago to never sit still. He would head east across Floria Bridge and stop at Lurelin for supplies. 

The bridge stretched across the entire span of the lake and half a mile up, where the tree’s stretching limbs knotted together to make up a natural walkway further secured from Hylian placed boards. It would be a quick cross, a small valley and downhill to Lurelin. If he was lucky, he could make it by midnight. 

He sighed. His feet were killing him yet his grip tightened on the pack’s shoulder straps. 

It was just like old times, he thought. He wasn’t useless. He wouldn’t be useless. 

He’d just left the edge perimeter of the stable when alarm bells rang in his head. He may be a child but Link long learnt attentiveness kept you alive. Listen for birds, smell for something foreign, check the treeline.

And all three came into place. The birds in this area had long since grown accustomed to travelers and the stable horses. Sometimes when he carried oats and seeds, he’d sit just at the cliff’s edge and wait for them, letting them settle beside him before offering the treat. None chirped or sung. Scent was a Hylian's most keen sense. Zelda said Hylians’ sense of smell is the most powerful memory inducer (which led to plenty of “research” with him as the subject). He knew the smell of tropical rainforest, could taste ozone before a storm clashed through. But he’d smelled rich earth and obsidian where it shouldn’t be. When he turned in search of the disturbance, the stark shadow stood out between the underbrush, eyes unblinking, watching, eyes he’d seen before just over a long muzzle of teeth. 

They sent the demon wolf to finish the job. 

The average adult could never outrun a hungry wolf, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He ran. 

He heard it bark, more guttural than the stable’s dog, and he pumped his legs with whatever little strength he had. His pack bustled loudly just like the beast’ pounding paws only barely hesitating as he reached the cliff edge where the dirt road turned to makeshift aligned planks and the canopy of trees opened to vast waterfalls and a hundred foot drop. In other circumstances, the scene would be breathtaking, yet the wolf followed. He near tripped as the beast dashed just past him, pivoting to stop directly in the center of the great bridge and barked. What was he compared to a giant demon wolf? He knew the answer, yet his feet did not pause as he slipped the scimitar only for the wolf to dash to the side. 

Keep going, keep going— just finish crossing the bridge. He aimed to do just that with his weapon at the ready. When he heard it come up behind him, Link twisted, slashing the sword across only to touch air, the wolf clever and growling now. It jumped away from his sword in half little hops with Link forcing it to back up. He was lucky, the monster kept looking around itself to ensure it wouldn’t fall, nervousness just behind vicious snarls. 

The beast growled bitterly before howling out, likely calling for its pack or owners, and Link wouldn’t survive either. Link once hid in a cave when his age rune gave out hoping to finish his quest once it charged, unrealizing how the Faron Grasslands were scarce of prey and predators desperate enough to get over their fear of Hylians. If not for his teleportation, he wouldn’t have got out with just a scraped knee. How often was his survival reliant on just teleportation? Getting out just to stock up and try again later?

There weren’t any second chances here. Link turned around holding tightly to his pack’s straps. Halfway. He was halfway and just a little bit further. But what would come next? All that was beyond this bridge was barren fields in the way to Lurelin. It was no better a predicament—

His boy yanked to a halt, the straps of his pack digging into his shoulders, and at the back of his neck puffed warm air from a humid snout. That could have been his neck. _That could have been his neck—_

It tugged him back again just as Link slipped his arms from the pack’s straps booking it forward once more. Please, not here. Lurelin village would protect him, then it would be just a small mountain side to climb to Hateno—

No, no, no. 

He stopped. Very aware of the traveler before him that hadn’t been there moments ago, couldn’t have been this far onto the bridge if they couldn’t teleport. They looked average because they always do and thought they were smart, just like ‘Rulie and Sky. Speaking of, their voices echoed with the surrounding waterfalls, the group of liars casting glances at the great cliffs and natural bridge on their way to block his chance of any escape. Was this all a set up? 

Link could count the number of people that knew his child form on one hand, and he liked to consider the Yiga to just be one big giant nuisance. Of course, stories of a stupid child hero falling to their King meant that Kohga recognized him instantly. The anonymity he thought he had quickly fell away. In a single encounter, the age rune dropping while sneaking in their hideout and its many corridors, Link lost the greatest piece of protection between him and the Yiga Clan. The Yiga that knew him as the teen in the blue champion tunic suddenly knew him also as a small brat wandering in the woods. It was why Link hardly traveled without the rune in place, just in case of an ambush.

And now he stood with a beast behind him still holding his bag in its maw, his only salvation broken at the bottom of it while he himself stood in the middle of Bridge Floria wondering if the jump and current had a higher survival rate. What would Zelda do? She was better at planning stuff, yet the Yiga was coming closer just as the Fake Links did much the same. 

Then the Yiga stopped while the others didn’t. 

“Link! Link, what were you thinking running off on your own?” Sky. 

Link was so stupid. “Cut it out!” Among all of them, it was Time to surge forward with narrowed eyes and clenched jaw causing Link to unconsciously step away. It was so obvious now, because why else had Link never heard of them? Bandits— bandits or mercenaries with no morals in search of a quick rupee, and what better catch than the Yiga’s number one enemy? They humored him when it was obvious Link was leading them West, right into Yiga monitored territory. Impa always figured there must be a second base or informants hiding in the Zonai ruins. 

Fate was coming towards him in glimmering armor and a scowl, and he drew back, not towards the Yiga (cornered prey— fly in a web) but towards the bridge's edge, and the older man halted instantly. Link thought the roaring waterfalls were the reason Time’s voice sounded softer than he expected. “Link, you’re okay.”

No, no he wasn’t. The bandits were selling him out, why haven’t they pushed him off this bridge themselves? 

But Time was kneeling then, eye level with Link and not approaching, and it was all to reminiscent of earlier that day when the river threatened to swallow him whole. He didn’t want to do this. “We’re not angry with you. We were scared.” He said that all the while the demon wolf dropped his pack and his once perfect escape route. 

Link still took a step back. If he didn’t think about it, of the square miles of Lake and depths unknown, of how its waters would pull him down back to sleep— stop it. He could do this. He could survive this because he didn't have options, and being afraid of a quick swim was stupid. Sidon did it all the time. He stared defiantly at Time as his voice wavered. “Scared to lose your catch?”

The man frowned. “What do you—”

“Link, it is you, right, deary?”

Pretending to be an older man with greying hair and glasses gave the Yiga a soft look, but Link could see the signs that others could not, signs that sent his blood whirring with adrenaline. 

“Oh, you know Link?” Hyrule.

Wait a minute.

“Indeed! Link, you’ve given me a fright! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” 

They didn’t know. _They didn’t know_. 

“You his grandpa or something?” asked Legend, arms folded and guard down, the disguised Yiga inching closer. Why didn’t he just drop the disguise—?

The Yiga smiled at Link, Legend still frowning — _Oh, no, he had it all wrong._

“No, it’s a trap!” He shouted even as the greyed man surged forward with youthful speed, the glimpse of a dagger at his waist, knowing Link couldn’t escape.

Except it was Time’s blade that met the weapon and a long swipe that forced the Yiga to teleport back in a puff of magic miasma.

“Who are you!?” someone shouted. 

In another puff of smoke, Link recognized the mask and maroon suit. They held a sickle in one hand with the other slipping beneath the mask to let out a shrill whistle. 

Link could only warn, “Look out!” before blademasters and footsoldiers took up both ends of the bridge, the nine Link’s at the center and no escape. This felt too planned, but none of that mattered, because someone was dragging him by the arm behind them. Warrior, he thought, with his scarf actually tucked in raised a shield before the demon carver could cut him in half. 

“Death to the hero!” 

Hell broke loose with bows and swords meeting shields. 

“Duck!” shouted Legend as a wave of heat passed just inches from his face.

“Are you trying to burn down the bridge!?”

But Link saw the blademaster winding up his shot. “Move out of the way!”

Four had looked up, but his shield could not stop the gust of wind from knocking him back, his feet sliding until he teetered just at the edge. “Four!”

The boy yelped just as Hyrule slid forward, catching Four’s hand only just in time. Warrior jumped forward before a Yiga archer could find home in the Traveler’s back. Which meant Link could only lunge out of the way of a carver’s swipe. He’d only gotten to his feet when someone backed up into him, tripping over his small body as they cried out. Link was just stupidly standing in the eye of a hurricane, unable to help, a hazard for others. The slate. Why did he have to break the slate?

When he got up again, Sky beside him, he locked eyes with that demon wolf who growled before leaping forward. Squinting, Link waited for those teeth to sink into his throat only for it to have swept over him. Link turned just as it jaw’s found home around the footsoldier’s shoulder. It was chaos, with everyone moving every which way. Arrows flew randomly and he thought Wind had called out his name in fear. Not that it would save him from the wave of wind by the windcleaver, the gust low and strong against his however many pounds that the floorboards were like marble. He slipped, pushed away from Time’s reaching hand and tumbling through the the open air, twisting and lost and heart leaping in his throat for the inevitable splash.

Until a red sash caught his attention, hands quickly pulling his around Sky’s neck, then they lurched and steadied like he would with his paraglider. Link looked up at Sky’s determined face and the white cape above keeping them afloat. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine, Link.”

“The others—”

Sky tried to hush him. “All good, Link, just don’t let g—” he said only to be interrupted by the whistle and sinking of an arrow, the two suddenly falling once more in a tangle of limbs. 

He had no time to scream, to pray to Hylia to not put him back to sleep.

* * *

_Time had taken this little boy's hands in his after he wiped away snot on his sleeve. He knelt in front of him just close enough for privacy but not enough to crowd him._

_"I don't know what happened to you, but I promise you you're not alone." He lightly squeezed those tiny calloused hands, his stomach lurching that they were obviously from wielding a sword rather than playing rough or farm work. "I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. We all will."_

* * *

Link couldn’t remember the last time he entered a pool of water without the Zora armor. Mipha had made it for him so he could keep up with Sidon, she had told him. The divine beast pacified meant small precious minutes with the one he once in another lifetime called big sis. These days, it kept him from sinking back into that basin in that cold, damp shrine, repelling water from all but his face. That he could handle. What he couldn’t handle was the cold rushing straight through cloth, seeping into bone, the current slipping over skin— twisting and whirling around him until up was down and darkness beckoned him. It wanted him to go back to sleep, and he fought not to scream, searching for the lip of the basin that wasn’t there. Let him out, get him out— _Not again, please, no—_ He found hands that grabbed him, the monks demanding their champion be stronger next time, try again. Try, try again. No escape— can’t escape. An arm wrapped around his torso even as he wildly kicked, while he prayed for Zelda to hear him — Urbosa, please — someone! 

He screamed uselessly from tiny lungs, his throat filling with the shrine’s lake water (?) as his stupid limbs numbed and couldn’t keep up with his frantic mind. Weak weak weak— 

Until he broke the surface still choking. 

His senses were crisp yet blinding, like a kaleidoscope of dazzling light and images more puzzle than clear. Green. Not blue. Green filled his vision in lush flora. A rushing waterfall drowned out his racing heartbeat. Cold— he was cold but an arm around his torso pulled him not under but through the current, keeping his head above water, his back against a scaled chest. A Zora in the basin—Floria Lake? 

Lake, lake, this was a lake and not the shrine and basin, and he wasn’t alone.

At his peripheral was a green sleeve and trailing white sailcloth. Sky. Sky caught him, tried to save him. It wasn’t Sky’s arm around him, and it wasn’t a Zora. The second the being reached the shoreline, Link felt boneless, all the fight gone and an aching exhaustion from bone deep chill. He curled into himself, a palm against gravel and sediment lightly coated in soaked moss. Zelda always told him to think about the physical things around him when his head went back to the shrine and basin. He wasn’t the only one breathing heavily, coughing and heaving. 

But then those arms were pulling him up again into a sitting position, a hand at his back maybe checking his breathing. 

“Link?” A beat at his back, strong yet careful as he coughed. “Let it out.” 

Sky groaned at his side, and Link spotted the arrow poked out just below his shoulder blade, and the scaled figure went to kneel beside him. It took him longer than it should have to recognize the markings across their forehead, their hair sopping wet and plastered to the sides of their face. 

“When did you get here?” Link asked.

“Just in time to see you fall,” Twilight responded. “Good thing Legend was carrying my bag. By the way, he noticed his missing rupees.” The young man was smiling before turning back to Sky. “Anything punctured?”

Said man responded through gritted teeth. “Doesn’t feel like it.” To Link, it didn’t look deep. It probably startled him more than anything. . . Though Link didn't get it. Why would he jump from the bridge to grab him? Why did Twilight? After running away, stealing from them, being weak over and over in need of saving?

“Hyrule can heal this right up. . . When we get back up there.”

Link followed his line of sight to the bridge. Purah said the trees' roots webbed themselves in the lakebed to avoid the current, and its branches rose and twisted , blooming into a natural bridge further guided by Hylian intervention so its limbs grew at the right angle. It was beautiful. Link loved this area that felt almost symbiotic. Was that the word Zelda used? 

While Twilight tended to Sky, Link laid out the white sailcloth to let it dry, noting the time of day. “Are the others okay?”

“They will be.” There wasn’t any hesitance as Twilight helped the other sit up. “Those guys were already starting to run off when you fell.”

He figured. So the others weren’t targets but neither were they working together. That was— what a relief. His mouth still tasted of pond water, and he held a fistful of gravel and mud in each hand, but he was safe. They were safe. 

Looking back to Twilight, he studied the blue makeshift armor. “I’ve never seen Zora armor like that.” 

“Is it common around here?” the man asked curiously. 

“Not really. They’re for marriages, though. Are you married?”

Oh, he didn’t think a red face complimented blue armor really well. Twilight coughed into his hand while Sky seemed to shake slightly with his head between his legs. “Uh, no. No, it doesn’t mean that where I’m from. It just lets me breath underwater.”

“Wait really!?” Suddenly he bounced on the balls of his feet in front of Twilight, poking at the scales and threads. “How? Are they enchanted? Did a fairy bless it?”

“Uhh— I uh-” Twilight looked around his shoulder, staring up at the bridge again. Then Link heard it, the faint whistle echoing over the waterfalls. Twilight brought his hands up and called out a bird call Link didn’t recognize.

“What does that mean?”

“That we’re safe.” Smart. He should do that with Zelda when her research gets her lost without him. “Now we just have to find a way back up.”

“Well,” Link started, studying the sky and position of the quickly lowering sun. “Any minute now, we can get a lift.”

Sky and Twilight shared a look. “What does that mean?” 

Huh. He thought if they were like him they could feel the energy in the air, the crisp taste of zone at the tips of their tongues. Instead, he pointed up to the great waterfalls where the energy swarmed like keese. Certainly they felt it too? 

Link always thought it incredible how its golden horn emerged first, a gleaming threat that scared off the monsters as the water carried an electric current coursing from its scales. Impa once suggested it was Farosh that advanced Sheikah technology more than Naydra’s wisdom. It rose, great and magnificent, its spine lined with lightning rods and gliding like the tail of a kite until dipping down towards the Lake.

“Uh, Link, is that thing friendly?”

Link suddenly realized that there were still six very dangerous and armed heroes up above. “Tell them not to shoot him!” 

Twilight did just that, making that same call of safe twice over as the dragon ran perpendicular with the lake’s surface, its talons just barely dipping into its waters. Sky had stood up by then and followed the dragon’s trail. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

Link smiled. “Farosh protects this region, but they’re usually napping in Lake Hylia west from here.”

The two heroes shared a look that he didn’t pay mind to, instead checking the semi-dried sailcloth. It would have to do. “Sky, you think you can hold onto him?”

“I mean, I’m not too injured. Probably for a minute if needed. . .” 

“Good. Get ready.”

“Link, what are you doing?”

He rolled his eyes. “We’re going to catch the updraft dummy.” They seemed to finally notice how the wind had picked up. Dorian would call it dragon magic while Zelda explained the mass in a domed area would displace the air, something, something, something— “C’mon, were gonna miss it.” tossing the sailcloth to Twilight, Link guided Sky forward to Twi’s back. “Trial one.” 

Sky gave the other hero a regretful smile. “Uh, so, awkward piggy back, I guess? But I don’t think there’s enough wind to kick off the ground, Link.”

“Let me worry about that.” It was the least he could do, plus he wanted to sleep in a real bed tonight. Farosh was just above them now, the draft the strongest and as Sky said, not enough to carry the three of them. Twi held the sailcloth, Sky with his arms around the young man’s back and legs crossed. Link would hold him from the front. “There’s not a weight limit for this thing, right?”

“Can’t say I’ve tested its limits, but it has carried me and a friend a head taller than me.” 

Perfect. Linked closed his eyes and called out. _Revali._ The response came instantly, the sudden wind swirling at their feet until it jetted up like a geyser, Twilight’s grip almost shaky from the sudden force and the weight of a grown man and child, yet he held on to the sturdy sailcloth. Soon it wasn’t the champion’s gale, but Farosh’s that pulled them up and up, and the cliffs were nothing compared to a Rito’s and dragon’s winds. 

Those that had turned their attention away from the rising dragon headed towards them, seemingly okay except for a cut on Time’s cheek.

And Time — the second they settled back on top of the cliff side, Time knelt before him without touching, reading his face, looking for winces and blood that wasn’t there. He was fine. He was okay — he would be okay. This wasn’t the basin or Yiga. He would be okay. He saw his bag in Hyrule’s hands.

They were okay.

* * *

Kid Wild 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Winter break is almost here so expect an update around December 18th!


	3. Lurelin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient with me!

Link woke with a start to too much silence and soft fabric at his fingertips. It should have been beside a campfire on his way to Lurelin for supplies, but instead he sat up warily recognizing the stable’s furniture and the forever smell of storm in its wood. Someone removed his boots. Beside him, a chair creaked as a hand floated over his vision, the one with the ugly blue gloves, and pressed a warm palm to his forehead. 

Link looked at him, the one that called himself Warrior. The man leaned away then just out of Link’s swatting. “Look at you already up. How are you feeling?”

Oh, he must have crashed before they got back to the lakeside stables. He yawned. “Just tired. What time is it?”

“Hitting about nine. You slept through the night. If you’re up for it, everyone’s out having breakfast.”

Link considered the rations in his pack: bananas and honey combs. Those were probably safer than anything these guys made. And yet—

“They ordered pie, too.” Warrior laughed at Link’s traitorous stomach rumbling like the guttural snore of a hinox. “Let’s go kid,” he said as he stood and stretched from his seat. The younger followed suit, only slipping on the boots that sat at the end of the bed before meeting Warrior at the door of their room. Bedrolls were shoved to the side or rolled up in the corners next to packs. Did they all stay in here sleeping on the floor?

Before he could ponder further, Warrior guided them to the main hub of the stable, which was nothing more than a large room with tables and chairs for traveler’s to unwind. He could smell it from the hallway, but Link sent out a silent thank you to Hylia for the crepes and eggs being served at the two tables the company of supposed Links took over. He wouldn’t tell Wind that the salted beef tasted like the inside of his pockets, but he didn’t think he’d accept more if he’d offered. 

Wind was quick to wave them over to a seat next to him and the already full plate set there. Across from him sat Legend and Sky.

But he looked right over the bacon and scrambled eggs for the real prize of this stable still sat in the middle of the table untouched. He had to sit on his knees to reach for it, reminded once more of his height but not letting it ruin the beautiful dish waiting for him. 

Cima made the best apple pie to the point her literal recipe hung on the wall opposite of him for anyone to use. He didn’t think twice to shove the bacon aside and plop a sliver of pie on his overflowing plate. 

Man, he would cherish every bite! He picked up his fork and plunged straight into the sweet, gooey cinnamon apple filling and flaky crust, mouth already watering.

“Hey, no dessert until you eat something good for you.”

He’d never whipped his head around so fast in his life. “Excuse me?” he asked Sky’s soft concern. He shoved the piece into his mouth. 

“C’mon, kid. That stuff’s gonna rot your teeth. Eat some of your bacon first.”

Funny. They’re all funny. He already started to cut up his next piece before swallowing. “You’re all missing out.”

Sky looked over his head at Wind, which annoyed him. The latter shrugged before leaning into his space. “We can take a slice for the road.”

“Or I can eat this now and save the rest for later.”

“And how are you going to do that? Shove your plate in your pack?”

“I’ll—”  _ Oh, oh yah.  _ He swallowed and lowered his fork. It was strange how much his slate was a part of his daily routine. It was an autonomic response to reach for it, but all that sat at his hip was the white cloth of the tunic. Such thoughts dulled the pie’s flavor. He set down his fork and went for the too salty bacon.

Sky coughed. “So, Link, We’ve been meaning to ask you, but we were wondering when we would see the castle.”

Link paused mid bite. _ Why would _ — he thought until remembering the story. Different kingdoms in history. His castle sat in ruins, the malice like toxins having eaten away much of what hadn’t been destroyed before. Though it had cleared out after Ganon’s fall, it lay as ruins with everything of any sort of grandeur with it. “You want to go to the castle?”

“Indeed. It’s been customary to meet the monarch and gather intel on the monster’s whereabouts.”

“Except mine,” commented Wind. “I mean, there isn’t a castle or anything, and Tetra is more of a pirate than a princess.” 

Though he bit his lip, Link couldn’t hold back a short laugh. It became more obvious every passing minute they were nothing like him. . . What kind of fantasy did they live to have full kingdoms and towns and no Yiga factions? “Your best bet is rumors around the stables for the monsters, not the castle.”

Sky still smiled on, undeterred. “Even so, it would be an honor to meet your young princess.”

Oh, they thought she was the same age as him. “She’s not at the castle,” he said, watching them for their reaction. This was a risk. Over and over again they’d helped him when they didn’t have to or should care to, but . . . This was Zelda who had shoes too big to fill and subjects that didn’t care for a new ruler. They’d lived long enough without one and established their own trade routes and village protectors, after all. They survived. Her presence was an unwelcome change with no promise of a better tomorrow.

But it wasn’t that. It was because she was one of the pieces from his past, someone who knew truths he ignored and blocked out. Impa once said it was maybe a blessing he did not remember a majority of his old life. What he did remember made his left side feel warm and tingly, itchy to the point of rubbing burn scars raw like they were fresh and spend nights avoiding dreams. Zelda knew him as the champion that couldn’t fill his boots, wield his sword, or aspire hope to a crippling kingdom, one that paid that price . . . 

But he had an idea. “I can take you to her once I fix my slate. That’s where I was heading to.” 

Legend, who had been quietly enjoying his eggs, snorted loudly. “Good to know we were just your bodyguards.” He didn’t look up as he said it. 

Link could think of more fitting words: babysitters, kidnappers, captors, idiots considering how Wind told him about Hyrule’s “octorok soup.”  _ Whatever you say _ , he thought to himself. “First to Lurelin for supplies then head north. It’ll probably take two days if we’re quick.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Wind. “Let’s fix your box!”

“It’s not a—” he bit down his words. What they thought didn’t matter, but their insistence to follow made things easier. Breakfast ended quicker than expected, with dishes cleared and leftovers tucked away. Sky helped him wrap a piece of the apple pie in a small lidded tin held together with twine to keep close.

Legend mentioned an ice rod in his pack would keep it from spoiling.. “How can you fit so much in it?” Link asked.

The man in question only smiled, eyes downcast. “Magic.”

So Sheikah storage techniques, condensing particles into data until further use, Link concluded, just like his slate. He wondered if the material of the bag itself was Sheikah tech, something similar to his runes, but shook away the thought before he could ask something stupid. It was Robbie territory anyway.

Alright, time to head out. The plan had filtered across the tables at breakfast and rolling up bedrolls. Link checked his pack and studied the treeline the moment they stepped out. “Where’s the demon wolf?” 

The others followed close behind, the shortest beside himself coming up with his own pack across his shoulders. “You mean Wolfie?”

“I meant what I said.”

Something about that got a laugh out of Four. “He kinda comes and goes. Seems to follow us but is super friendly and smart. He would never hurt you.”

The small punctures in his pack would say otherwise. Oh no, a wolf his height with teeth the length of his hand was nothing to worry about. Whatever, Twilight already stood at the edge of the cliffside before the bridge started. Once more, they would cross Lake Floria and hopefully without incident. Despite his annoyance, he tolerated Mr. Time at his side. His hand didn’t hover like Twi’s did next to Wind, but Link still thought of swatting him away. He survived without even a scratch . . . no thanks to himself, but Link wouldn’t show weakness again. It would be a matter of time before the tables would turn.

Four looked back across the bridge the second they reached its end. At some point Time had slipped to the back and Four taking his place beside Link. “Say, Link, this is the second stable with the masked horse sculpture on it.”

Wind overheard and turned around to ask, “It’s just a horse, right? Because stables, duh.”

“Sure, but they’re wearing something on their faces, right? Does it symbolize something?”

Huh, he didn’t think any of them noticed. Link certainly didn’t until several visits. “It’s Malanya. Horse god that protects both travelers and their companions. They’re scary.” He shivered at his own warning. 

Four looked back for a moment. “Malanya, huh? Sounds familiar. You think we can pick up any horses in this Lurelin? Something to speed up our journey?”

Link wished. Once the tropical trees dwindled into a barren path, the valley dipped lower the further they walked yet not steep enough to slide down on a shield. If only. He hardly came through here without a horse or teleporting and a part of him forgot just how boring the initial trek had been.

“Couldn’t we have rented some from the stables?” asked ‘Rulie.

Rolling his eyes, Link turned to walk backwards to say, “You register horses with them to take care of them, not rent. And there aren’t any wild horses in this area to catch anyway.”

“You seem to know a lot about the land.” 

“Have to.” Ignoring the shared looks between the others, he sighed, turning back ahead and spotting the perfect thorn in his side. “Put your guard up.”

* * *

“What do you mean?” Hyrule followed their youngest’s line of sight to the lone traveler just off the path. “Is that a royal helmet? A guard?” Maybe they were on the right way to the castle.

“We don’t have guards. It’s a disguise anyways.”

Hyrule squinted confused at the lone figure until Twilight moved to block Link from the figure’s sight. “You mean, it’s like the assassin’s from yesterday?”

It was like a silent order, the group quickly situating themselves around Link with Hyrule and Twilight at his side and the others creating a makeshift circle. Warrior took front with Time at the rear of the group, the two having the strongest reach and overall prowess while their most skilled swordsman remained at Link’s side. Hyrule as team healer put him at Link’s other side. And yet despite the battle readiness of the group, he glanced over just for Link to roll his eyes. “Relax. Don’t give them the time of day and they realize you’re not gullible.”

“Why don’t we send them back to their mama?” asked Warrior from his place at the front.

“Great Din, put your sword away— ‘Cause more will show up and I prefer not falling off a bridge or getting smashed by a boulder over a petty fight.”

Over Link’s head, Hyrule spotted the darkening expression on Twilight’s face. “You think fighting for your life is petty?”

“That’s not— shut it — I mean it doesn’t solve anything. They’ll just keep coming back and they don’t usually mess with travelers except to indoctrinate the morons who buy their bananas.”

“That’s a big word for you,” Legend commented.

Link glared around Hyrule, not that the hero was looking. “I’m not stupid. Just leave ‘em be.” 

Silence fell over them as they marched, eyes forward except to glance and study the lone traveler stretching off to the side. They called out at some point, Hyrule reaching for his sword much like Twilight until tiny hands gripped the edge of their tunics. Link glared up at him and didn’t let go even when they abandoned their actions. The rest did much the same, seemingly reading the room.

No incident.

They walked past completely ignoring the fake bananas they were “selling.” 

Hyrule’s fingers itched to draw his blade, feeling the eyes on the back of his head. The fake merchant called out once more about a deal even as they walked further down the path. Then no more, just the songbirds overhead and boots against gravel. 

With a huff, Four shook his head. “Honestly, they needed to work on their sale’s pitch.” 

Hyrule sputtered just as Wind belched a full belly laugh. “Bananas? Really?” 

Even Link smiled. “You’d think they’re trying to resurrect the banana king.”

Another dollop of laughter waved around them at the odd joke. But at least Link was talking. Twilight went off about something called a monkey that Legend agreed were annoying, and Hyrule looked back to see if their weird banana salesman was still watching them.

Only instead he turned to see Time far too distant from their group sheathing his sword and the disguised salesman nowhere in sight.

* * *

_ Previously _

In minutes of careful checking over Sky and Link, Time found himself kneeling behind their youngest pulling off his water filled boots. The kid shivered likely from both the cold and loss of adrenaline from what had become a very long stressful day. What a day indeed, finding a child that suddenly became their first priority, skipping over the stable they should be asking monsters about to chase him across the bridge. 

Time may exude calm, like a cool compress against others’ blisters of frustration, soothing worries and fears among a group of young men and children meant to play goddess’ chess pieces. He hoped Link did not hear how he screamed his name, how the blind panic left him vulnerable to a windcleaver’s gust knocking him against the bridge and only fortunately in the path of the single archer aiming towards Sky. The only reasons he didn’t jump after them as they fell was the assassin’s sudden retreat, War’s hand, and Twilight slipping on the Zora armor at unexpected speed. 

Seeing him clinging to Twilight, not a scratch on him, breathing, smiling weakly even as he shivered— Time exhaled deeply releasing the tension in his shoulders along with thoughts of what could have been. A stroke of incredible luck kept all of their bags with them and not somewhere in the watery depths below. 

“Let’s get you changed, kid,” he said, looking across the different heroes. 

Wind sighed but began to dig through his bag. “I got it. Here.” Tossing a shirt to them, Time was thankful it was clean as he turned to face the others for mock privacy. Legend locked eyes for only a moment, spotting Link behind him before turning as well even though he now faced against the rest of the group. Time didn’t blame him. The scars were expansive and a reminder that life had not been kind to their youngest.

Sky rested easily on a fallen log with the arrowhead already removed and a small healing salve carefully closing the wound beneath bandages. That was close— too close. Twilight seemed fine, shrugging out of the Zora armor unscathed and boots traded for the casual sandals that hardly saw the light of day. 

Time only turned at the soft grip at the sleeve of his tunic, a head pressing gently against the metal plating of the armor. Over his shoulder, the sight brought him to a smile: Link’s hair no longer stuck strictly to his head but lightly curled as it dried, knees drawn up and eyes closed. In this state he was small, and once more Time wondered if he had ever wielded the Master Sword or much like Four had been provided a different blessed blade on his quest. 

Twilight leaned over with his own soft smile and whispered words. “Here, I’ll carry him once we head back.”

The kid groaned but didn’t let go of Time’s tunic. “I’m fine.”

“You really planning to walk back to the stable?” There was no response as there shouldn’t be. It’d been a long day for all of them and certainly much more for someone his age. “It’s getting late.”

“Right.” Time looked out to the surrounding heroes, bags packed and ready and exhaustion evident. “Let’s head back.”

“. . . Gotta get to Lurelin,” Link mumbled.

“Tomorrow, kid.”

It’s several careful seconds to poke Link awake enough to climb onto Twilight’s back, the young man refusing to move until Link’s hands gripped around his neck to pass back over Lake Floria once more.

The young man walked at the dead center of the bridge with Wind at his right and Time on the other. He knew both Legend and Warrior hovered close to Wind and Four just in case their enemies return. It’s intense but quiet until Twilight asked. “What’d I miss?”

Wind at his right huffed annoyingly. “They just ran off— left in a puff of smoke as soon as you jumped off after Link and Sky. Bunch of weirdos.” 

Against Twi’s back Link mumbled, “. . . They are annoying.”

Time leaned over, careful in search of a frown or annoyance, but Link only laid still. A single eye peeked open. 

“Yknow, kid, I can’t tell if you’re just a trouble magnet…. have you met those guys before?”

“Yiga.” In his exhaustion, Link twisted his face into the fabric of Twi’s tunic. Link’s hair was everywhere and covering his face. Time leaned over, careful to extract the wet strands and brush them back and card his fingers gently through. He knew when Malon would do this after a long day of work it would put him right to sleep. “Bunch of assassin dudes. Trying to kill me. . . like it’ll bring back their lord, or something.”

The hand paused in Link’s hair— not that the boy would notice. Already his eyes settled shut. Perhaps he didn’t notice how Twilight halted in his steps or the seethe between teeth from Hyrule behind them.

Twilight worried his lip, a pinched look Time knew meant he would need someone to pull him back up. He placed a hand on the back of the younger man’s shoulders just beside Link’s face and didn’t mind his miniscule flinch in his shoulders. At this angle, the scars were on full display, eating through the hairline and across his ear. Times own heart raged, his stomach twisting from keeping his emotion back only for it to sprout into a thrumming headache at his temples. Anger would do nothing now that Link slept safely around them, the bridge almost crossed. Farosh, Link had called the dragon, had long since flown off west beyond the tree line. 

Twilight did not stop but his eyes were far away. Link was no longer with them in hopefully a peaceful sleep. “There’s assassins after him.” He spoke softly so as to not wake their charge. “That night, when we went to look for him calling out his name — do you think that Yiga was looking for Link?” 

It all became a little too clear. The eye across that Yiga’s chest was just a mimic of the Sheikah. Those that attacked today wore that same eye on masks but upside down in rebellion. We’re there any devoted Sheikah left?

Then the rest of them were eight bumbling travelers calling out the name of their target. If that assassin hadn’t run into them first in those woods, hadn’t run off at the sight of them just before reaching Link when the Moblin had a hold of him, Time wondered if the assassin would have succeeded. 

Something was very wrong with this Hyrule. Settlements were far and ruins between. Whatever happened, the people were still recovering. Where was the Hyrulean army? The marketplaces and houses across the countryside? It was obvious many of its civilians were experienced with weapons. Nearly all those they crossed carried at least a knife at their hip. But beyond them, there was tall grass with floral weeds only disturbed by the fauna. It was untamed. Beautiful, but undomesticated. Few paths were worn from travel, and why, dear Hylia why, was this Link no more than a little boy? Was one not enough? A dozen? Just how many broken timelines of just boys were forced to be men? To be martyrs? Tools?

They crossed the bridge silently and resheathing their blades. The Yiga did not return yet the tension ate him, Time’s single eye studying the faces of the few traveler’s resting across the stable grounds. Just who could this Link trust? 

They were quick to get a room, taking the last one with only a single large bed for Sky and Link to recover, the others unrolling mats and seeking out blankets.

But after settling in their youngest, Time did not sleep. He stared and watched the door from his place leaning against the wall, a blade across his lap and questions rolling over in disgusting waves. 

Was this his fault?

* * *

Four had seen plenty of incredible views and villages, but there was something tranquil about this land’s Lurelin. Grass and gravel fell away to packed sand then open sea. They’d stopped at its edge in awe.

“It looks like—"

“It feels like my island!” 

Four had never seen a village like it, Though small, it held more than Wind’s small island with varying locals and tourists alike. Link hadn’t even stopped, trudging forward through the sand towards a small shop to speak to an obvious merchant. In his hands was a small purple-

“Oi! That aint yours!”

Huh, Four hadn’t seen Legend move that fast outside of combat. Not even the loose sand slowed him down until plucking the coin purse from the kid’s hands. Link frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Then stop being annoying.” As the elder sputtered looking away and the others held back laughs and grins, Link reached out for the small cinched bag once more. 

But Legend knew what to expect now, lifting it far above the younger’s head. “Nice try, pipsqueak.” 

Only when Link pulled his foot back to swing did Time step forward. “Alright, alright. Let’s see what we need and stock up. Hyrule’s on medical supplies, but Warrior, you’ve kept a decent record so far. If anyone has any requests, write them down as usual.” 

Unlike the rest, Four already had his list written, but it took one look around the place to notice they wouldn’t have what he needed. No forge or metalworking. A man walked with a harpoon hooked over his shoulder, another retrieving fish hooks from a tackle box. Their gear was for their lifestyle, and that did not include half the things in his shop back at home. 

Sky checked for his own sack of rupees and sighed in relief (not that Four blamed him). “The rest of us can look into travel food and lunch. Link, I think they have things handled here, so do you want to go with me?” 

Wind’s interest piqued along with Link’s. Four too joined them further into the village, passing small vendors and lounging tourists. “Seems like a popular place.” Couples sat across the beach, others gathering near the docks where small fishing boats seemed to sell straight off of it. 

“Roads are a lot safer now,” commented Link. 

Sky pressed hopefully. “What changed, then?”

Yet it brought an expected silence. So far their youngest had been cagey on the subject if the conversation with Wind just the day before was anything to go by. Time had asked them not to press too hard, but it was important to understand this Link’s role and capability. They’d yet to see him even with a sword.

Despite the lull, Link followed after to the pier, standing beside Four at the assortment of fish and wares. Sky looked perplexed. “Can’t say I’ve really had much fish? I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Hey, Link, what kinds are these?” asked Wind holding up a plump red-striped fish to them.

“Porgy. Might porgy. Pretty filling and easy to cook with.” 

“Oh, maybe we could have these for lunch, then!” While Wind and Sky spoke to the merchant, discussing preparation and suggestions that are really falling on deaf ears, Four poked at the purple spiky sacs in another vendor’s wares. 

“Octorok balloons.”

Four looked over Link with a raised eyebrow. “Do you cook them?”

“Or prank people.”

“Perfect.” Four pulled out his own wallet. “It’s a good thing that currency doesn’t seem to change across time.”

“. . . You serious you’re from . . .the past?”

That wasn’t exactly an easy question. Few outside of themselves believed their tale of dimensional and time hopping. Sometimes, Four wondered if this was all just a strange dream or memories from the Four sword. How many can say they’ve met the hero that forged the Master Sword, a blade that in his time was just a fairy tale? “Yah. I know we don’t look like much— just a bunch of dummies running around, but we’ve seen a lot of world— worlds, I guess.” His attention focused on something just past Link’s ear and dangling from the strands in play. Four had first noticed the Minish just that morning and wondered if it always hung around him. He could ask at another time. The one that likes to hide in Wind’s pockets was quite a chatterbox. “It’s strange really to see the passage of time. Some things change and others all the same.”

Link seemed to ponder this, which was more than he could ask for really. It wasn’t like he accepted this grandeur tale of destiny so easily, either. It didn’t help that they didn’t have any additional hands to convince him either. His own Zelda did much of the coaxing, same with Warrior, apparently. But if they could find an ally here in this Hyrule, it could finally speed things along.

“So where do I fit in your history?”

“Our history— but I don’t know. Maybe there’s something in your kingdom’s library that can place you, like what heroes have come before.” A princess and a library could solve a lot of questions, hopefully a king too to ask some of the more hard hitting questions they avoided with Link due to his age.

Rather than respond, Link looked to their companions’ bagged catch and where Time and the others were relaxing at the edge of the water speaking with a fishermen or another. “We should get going.”

“Go?” Wind looked up from the few electric arrows the merchant also sold. “We just got here!”

“And we can reach halfway to Hateno by nightfall. You guys all have sleeping mats and bedrolls anyway.” 

“Link, you can’t sleep outside. You’ll freeze!” 

Already the boy bounded back towards Time and others, walking straight pass and back up the path they’d arrived from only an hour ago. “Hurry up!” He turned to look back then promptly looked forward again. “We don’t have time to wait around!” 

“Link, come on!” Four ran forward to catch up.

“Link.” The old man’s voice worked like a command and the boy paused. Four did too. “At least allow time to eat before hitting the road. We don’t know what dangers lie in the woods. Those monsters are still out there and growing, just as you saw.” 

Link looked back biting his cheek and staring at Sky. The young man had moved to stand next to Time. Though Sky smiled back hopefully, Link did not. Nonetheless, the kid sighed and crossed his arms. “Fine. Fine, lunch then we go— but that’s it!”

Though their laugh only seemed to miff the kid more, he at least joined them at the edge of the village to a preexisting plot of ash and darkened wood. Seemed campfires weren’t uncommon across its shore. It seemed Legend already planned for a fire and had already gathered wood, pulling a firerod from his bag nonchalantly to light it. 

“Wait, seriously?”

Sky looked up from where he had pierced the fish’ flesh like a skewer. “What?”

“Not going to add anything?”

“Oh,” exclaimed Wind. “I have some rock salt somewhere— aha!” No one else added anything after as the two sprinkled salt across the porgy. They were already cleaned and ready, at least.

But that wasn’t to satisfactory because when Sky tried to put it back over the fire again he breathed deeply. “You deserve this,” he mumbled before getting up and running back towards the village. 

“Link!”

Beside Four, Time grinned. “Let it be. I think I know what’s going on.”

“So uh, do I not cook this?” Sky held out the pierced porgy. 

Apparently they didn’t have to wait long because in due time their youngest stumbled forward with his hands full and dumping most of it in Sky’s lap before also tossing the small purple wallet at Legend. 

“Thief!”

“Food saver!” Link retorted. “Saffron. Garlic, olive oil, peppers, truffle shavings — do these not exist for you guys?”

“Wait, wait,” Hyrule said with his hands pressed together in mock prayer held close to his mouth in thought. “You’re telling me even a kid knows more about cooking than me?”

“I’m not a kid!”

“We’re saved!” Warrior declared. “What do you need, little guy? Call me sous chef.” 

“War rations guy plus tiny brat? What could possibly go wrong?” Legend joked. 

At that, Link pointed at him. “You just lost seasoning rights.” Four noted that the saffron and chives and whatever else did not smother the skin of one of the porgy fish already pushed onto a skewer and plunged into the sand to lay just over the fire. Link poked at Warrior’s ungloved hands. “You have a funny tan line.” 

“You want help, right kid?”

Link looked around at the other companionswhile holding a bell pepper. “I need a knife.”

“Here, give it to me,” offered Wars. 

“I can do it myself.”

“And you need to divide up the seasoning,” Warriors argued, taking the bell peppers from Link’s hands to quickly slice with the small knife attached to his belt. They weren’t stupid. While Link likely was used to holding a blade, the others were trying to let this image of innocence last while it could. The scars were hard enough, sometimes. 

The two worked efficiently, Link giving out orders and War more or less just copying. Meanwhile the others sat back to watch or made small talk. Twi wandered off to see if one of their orders had finished just as Wind and Hyrule started a rock skipping competition at the water’s edge. However, it was only minutes for the aroma to draw them back in. Four was not salivating. Absolutely not. 

Such a scent brough Hyrule’s face just inches from the roasted porgy staring cross-eyed at its crisp skin. “Is it ready yet?” 

“Duh.” Link pulled one back from their forward pitch over the fire and poked at its skin. “Pick one you want— not you, Legend.”

“You serious?!”

Link specifically handed Legend his skewer of two porgy and veggies that notably lacked the same coating of seasoning as the rest, and Four hid his grin behind his palm. When he could muster a calm demeanor again, he took his own divinely smelling skewer. He picked at the porgy’s skin, tearing it to place on his tongue.

Sky was the loudest. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“. . . But is it better than Grandma’s?”

“I don’t think your grandma knows spice like this, Wind.”

“This is really good!”

“Why does this taste gourmet?”

“Whoa.” Four couldn’t agree more. “What’s the secret?”

Link leaned forward, looking around him then whispering in that way all children do, “Goron spice. Just a sprinkle goes a long way.” He held the tiny vial out for only Four’s view before hiding it once more. Four would buy as many bottles needed if he could eat like this for the rest of his life. 

The others joined in idle chat with Link sat between him and Time chewing methodically on his own skewer with a bouncing leg. It seemed the kid still wanted to head out as soon as possible. A warm meal could only coax a kid still for so long. 

Especially when furry friends show up out of the blue.

Link spotted it first, eyes narrowing then widening, the skewer dropping to the sand as he scrambled to his feet just as Time waved at the newcomer: Wolfie. 

* * *

Not again,  _ not again— _

Link scrambled back at the sight of the dark beast prancing over without a worry. It knew itself to be the top predator. It had no fear of the Hylians it approached. 

Time held out his arm like a barrier between boy and beast. Except his voice did not come out as snarling warnings towards the lurking demon wolf but cooing towards Link. “Hey, hey, he’s not going to bite, I promise. Look, he’s just curious what’s for lunch.”

Link wanted to respond “yah, me” considering the beast’s twitching nose yet following the meat skewers still angled towards the fire. Legend still munched on his bland skewer but scooted over for the approaching wolf. It really was obedient to them. That did not mean Link was among them.

“Here.” Time twisted around to his pack and unhooking the shield from its side to set with the concave side up. He plucked one of the skewers up, pulling the fish from it and setting the plate before the wolf. It sniffed, curious until gripping a fish in its mouth. 

At the wolf’s content, Mr. Time leaned back. “See? Just a big, old harmless grouch if anything.”

A growl rumbled from its throat as if it could hear the insult before going back to its fish. 

Four leaned over, a knowing smile on his face. “One time,” he whispered, “he gave me a piggyback ride. Give him a good scratch behind the ears and he’s the biggest softy you’ll meet.” 

At that, the beast whined, and it was  _ pathetic. _ “Err, nice Wolfie.” 

It huffed, going back to its treat. While he couldn’t say he believed the harmless part, Link didn’t plan on running away again to make just yesterday’s terrifying incident a repeat. No one else was reacting and the wolf wasn’t even staring anymore. . . He’d let it slide for now. From its place beside Legend, he could see the width of its paws, hear the subtle snaps of the fish’s flesh giving to canines. Legend could lean against it, and his head would be lost in dark fur. It’s a color he hadn’t seen before, with tones of grey taking up the belly and neck and a dark top coat. The patterns around its face were strange too. How distant must this animal be from his time for it to evolve so differently to the wolves that wander Hyrule’s plains avoiding guardians and monsters alike?

He wondered if the beast grew feral during the blood moons. He hoped he would be in Hateno by then with the slate fixed just in case. Not having the slate to keep track of time was annoying, but if he remembered correctly it could be by tomorrow night. Looking to Time and the others, each lost in jokes and tales of stories he had no context to, he considered if they had ever seen a blood moon. Doubtful. 

Therefore, Link didn’t feel bad to stand up once more brushing away sand. “We should head out, now. You’re full right? We need to pass over the mountain by tonight.”

“Why the rush?”

Link stared at the semi ate porgy on Legend’s skewer. “It’s like you don’t want to eat.” 

Though the group laughed, Link wasn’t stupid. They knew something was up and it was a matter of time before they decided to turn around and try to find the castle themselves. Spotting Sky and the blade beside him . . . No. 

They’d proven to him over and over they weren’t against him. Their angle made so little sense to him but it was the one they stuck with. And if they could get him to Purah who could also contact Robbie and Impa about strange encounters and portals— they could back their story or maybe send them back home. They always had answers to these kinds of things that made so little sense to a mind still playing catchup. 

Legend threatened to eat his pie slice, but Link already kicked his feet in the sand to smother the fire. 

Wind cupped his hands over his eyes and looked back towards the village. “You know, wasn’t Twilight checking our order?”

As if it could understand, the wolf shot up and trotted towards the village. Did really no one care that a giant wolf demon could chew someone’s leg off? Nope, apparently not. “C’mon,” called someone. Too many travelers, and he still didn’t believe they were all really named  _ Link. _

They found Twilight alone at the edge of the village in mid conversation with—

The merchant saw him and grinned ear to ear, waving manically. “Hey, stalker!”

Beedle! Link meant to run forward until the armored arm intercepted him. “Friend or disguise?” Time asked. Already the others tensed. 

Stupid. All it takes is one little incident and now they thought everyone was out to get him. He shoved the arm to the side and waved. “Hi, Beedle!”

He would swear he heard Wind say, “Wait, Beedle?”

Calling his name only spurred the merchant to wave wider, nearly teetering with the giant pack shaped like a beetle toppling him. Link had to admit, such a name and eye catching bag certainly helped with his noteworthiness among the stables. 

“Oh, is Mr. Twilight a friend of yours? Hmm,” Beedle said tapping at his chin. The others approached at a slower pace now that crisis had been averted. “Then in that case, you get a discount.”

Link sputtered. “Wha- hey! How come they get a deal, and I don’t?” How many times had Beedle denied him even the tiniest discount even when he said it was for the greater good?

“Don’t you know not to make deals with tricksters?” Beedle joked. If it was anyone else, Link would panic, but Beedle had been nothing but good with his word to keep his older form a secret. “But I heard you make a mean hearty radish soup. Share the recipe and we’ll call it even.”

“Meanie,” he whined but nonetheless held out his hand for paper and pencil. 

While Link wrote out the recipe, Beedle turned to the other companions, plopping his pack down with a loud thump. “So, what’s Little Link got you roped up into?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“So?”

Someone hesitantly answered that they were traveling brothers but started escorting him for his safety. It wasn’t a terrible excuse. In fact he wouldn’t deny a family resemblance through all of them. Beedle had shared a quick glance towards him that Link rolled his eyes at. “They’re not actually Yiga this time.”

“This time?” Warrior asked.

“Oh, good!” The young man held out his hand to shake those that offered and prepared their wares: bundles of arrows, some rations, and glass bottles with nothing inside them. What were they even planning to use them for? Whatever.

“Are you guys heading for Lakeside Stable next?”

“We actually just came from there,” explained Warrior. “We’ll be heading north, according to Link, here.” 

The merchant’s demeanor suddenly shifted. “Oh, uh, that’s probably not a good idea? Namura who makes those really good fish lures? He said to camp out here for the evening because he saw monsters gathering up on the hillsides. I’m hunkering down here ‘til morning, too! We can share recipes!”

The others looked about themselves while Link panicked. “Can’t. Gotta get to Hateno.”

Time turned to the merchant. “You’re saying the migrant pattern is unusual?”

“At those levels, yah,” Beedle confirmed. “But what’s so important in Hateno, Link?”

“. . . The slate.” 

“Wait, you left it there?”

“It’s broken.”

“Oh,” the merchant said, then his eyes widened. “ _ Oh. _ ”

“Yah. Which is why I want to get there as soon as I can. Oh, and they want to meet the princess.” 

“The princ— okay. Yah, okay.  _ Fine. _ You get the discount as a one time only, you hear?”

Link smiled. “Pleasure as always, Beedle!”

“Wait, you’re kidding,” groaned Legend. “That’s it? No ‘It’s too dangerous to go alone’ speal?”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” Beedle asked dryly. “Here, you can have my, uh — I have that boomerang you gave me!”

“No thanks, dude. You need it more than I do.”

“But you—” Beedle looked over at the other travelers. “Okay. If you’re sure. Be safe, little guy,” he said before ruffling the kid’s hair. 

“Not little!”

“Isn’t he the cutest? Take care of ‘em, alright? And good luck, travelers!” 

Link didn’t pause to wave, pulling at Time’ tunic until the man turned towards the road then walked on forward ahead. He only paused to ensure they followed, checking that Sky was among them and the sword. They were. He slowed to let Wind pace with him.

“So,” he started, “got a plan?” 

Link smiled. “Something like that. The question is if I can convince everyone else to join in.” He had maybe two hours and an incredible whiny voice. It worked on Robbie, after all. 

* * *

“No.”

“Puh-lease!”

“You have no self-preservation.” 

* * *

“C’mon! I promise I know what I’m doing.”

* * *

“Wind agrees!” 

“Wind, stop encouraging him.”

* * *

“Time?”

“Don’t give me those eyes.”

“Time?~” 

“I never wanted kids.” 

“Good, because I ain’t your kid.”

* * *

“If I agree to help you will you stop stealing my wallet?”

“For now.”

“. . . Deal.”

* * *

_ Nightly, Time wondered what became of the worlds he abandoned.  _

_ He wondered if they fared better than the ones before him, where their age and eyes matched unlike his own. _

* * *

Somewhere within a two hour hike, a plan formed, one that sounded very stupid but one Link promised he did all the time. This fact did not ease their concern.

Atop a cliff side stood a tall blin made structure, a scaffolding with layered tiers that Link knocked down only months before. He should really increase the frequency that he checks around Lurelin. Blins of varying colors and shapes took up both ground and its tiers, with camps of beast he’d never seen before.

“They’re my blins,” Twilight said. Gross. These had hair like a Hylian. 

“What the hell is that thing in the robe?” Someone asked. 

“Wizzrobes.”

“Why is it smiling?”

“Probably just had lunch.”

“Link, you’re not funny.”

The one thing he was thankful for was their stupidity. At one point Link had thought they simply spoke a different dialect, but overtime the mosnter’s intelligence came into question. 

The only indicator that the monsters were never working with the Yiga, he realized, is that monsters like to sleep next to barrels of exploding powder. Twice had he ever seen them use the barrels in a clever fashion: one for the Moblin to chuck at him and two when they managed to tear a hole in the side of Gerudo Town, not that they survived long. There’d been small efforts across Hyrule that all fell short of successful, like destroying the bridge up to Rito Village seemingly forgetting that it’s inhabitants had wings. 

“What are they doing?”

Link noticed too. The ground group piled barrels further up the cliff side. To reach this area from Lurelin is essentially a winding climb around, the mountain overlooking the village. 

The blins that wandered the ground carried barrels on their shoulders, piping them at the edge of the the cliff that would overlook Lurelin. 

“Plan B, no explosions.”

“What? You spent the last hour talking about bombs and fires, kids,” said Warrior.

“I think— see where they’re piling the barrels? Below that is Lurelin.”

Hyrule was first to speak the detrimental truth. “It’ll send a landslide through the village.”

Sky looked down the trail they’d come from. “They won’t know what’s happening until they’re buried.”

“So what now?”

Link bit his lip, looking across the tier scaffolding and barrels piling up. How long until the monsters will light them themselves? “I . . . I don’t know.” He spent fights creating as much havoc as possible, not the other way around. Stasis could pause time maybe long and on enough monsters to stop them from lighting it on accident or purposefully. Magnesis to steal weapons. He could use a great ice blade or electric rod— those were in his slate now inaccessible. Were they still stored or gone forever? The Master Sword should have been among them, yet Sky carried it on his back. 

Legend searched through his bag with a complicated look. “I think I have an idea.”

* * *

_ If he had been smarter, wiser, cautious rather than so trusting that everything would work out alright, that Hylia for once was working in their favor, he wouldn’t be holding Link to his chest, blood seeping down his armor as the boy took his last breath.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt like such boring filler it took me forever to write!  
> Anyway, thank you for reading!!


	4. Grace to Hateno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, fight scenes are not my forte but whatever. If anyone is confused on the layout of the battlefield, it's more or less the area above Yah Rin Shrine up through Mount Dunsel which you can find a map of online! I’m sorry for any confusion!  
> Enjoy the chapter!!

They had to backtrack to reach the unmarked bend in the road Link claimed led over the hills towards Hateno. It was infested, Sky recognizing beasts from across their travels. The winding slope led up to a plateau of monsters, using a tiered scaffolding using a tree’s natural branching as a base, it seemed, but it was further up the cliffside that was concerning. If what Link said was true, then this would be meticulous. 

The beauty of having eight heroes across time as his allies was that their skill and resources were above your average mercenary. Sure, they couldn’t carry everything with them, but Legend’s bag came in handy more often than not. Sky still wasn’t sure how he managed to keep it organized. 

Twilight placed the hawkey mask over his face, a bow in hand. “Seemed to be organized into camps . . . Is exploding powder common in your Hyrule, Link?”

“Robbie says . . . I mean, people say it’s not hard to make, because it’s red chu chu jelly and some other stuff to keep it from blowing up yet. But pressure and heat tends to set it off.”

“Gotcha. Don’t toss ‘em around or else it all goes boom.”

“Right,” said Warriors, checking off that everyone was ready until his eyes landed on Link just to make that same suggestion he’s asked over the past twenty minutes. “Link, why don’t you backtrack to Lurelin once your part is done, just in case?”

“Nope. We’re wasting time.”

“Actually, Time’s right here, but we don’t need kids on the field. Besides, they need to know things are happening around here in case more monsters show up again.”

Link sighed. “They won’t listen to me.”

“You are their hero, are you not?”

“I’m not— they won’t listen to me.”

Sky bit the inside of his cheek. Now wasn’t the time to question him and it wasn’t like Link was really going to sit on the sideline anyway. No Link was, it seemed. “You can watch Twilight’s back. In case anyone tries to sneak up on him.”

The kid paused, an obvious remark on his tongue he had to bite down. “Fine.”

Good. Now to get into position. War sounded off, people getting into their groups. At the moment, they sat at the disadvantaged low ground, the monsters taking up the cliffside and the tiered tree.

Sky was quick to offer up Link’s power as a solution. “I mean, it’d be multiple trips, but it’s possible.”

Hyrule had stared bewilderedly. “You can do magic?”

“Sky! . . No, I can’t.”

“Kid,” Twilight said, “It wasn’t just that dragon that lifted us out of there.”

“Farosh, and it’s not _my magic._ It’s like a blessing. I can’t do magic.”

Stranger and stranger. Link indeed was an enigma and he hoped one day he would be willing to speak more on himself when it wasn’t little snippets just solving whatever problem they currently faced. Yiga, magical blessings— another time. Sky checked the master sword, adjusting his sailcloth as everyone prepared.

Meanwhile, Twilight knelt down beside Link to set a small blade in his hands. “You won’t have to use it. You’re to tell me the second a monster spots us and heads our way, but I feel better knowing you have something.”

Link nodded. Though the leather was well worn at the hilt, its blade was still sharp. “Okay.” 

Time to get to work.

* * *

Monsters should know by now that peace and quiet was never a good sign. Whoever was forcing them to jump across timelines should know better. 

At the base of the hill, Warriors swung the fire rod lazily. “Good thing Legend has extras, huh?”

Four smiled beside him, the only two coming up on the tiered tree. He bounced a bomb in his hand, its tail already set alight. “Good thing we’re the only ones allowed to use real firepower.” He then threw it straight up, a good toss too, before it’s explosion echoed over the mountain terrain. “Heads up!”

Eyes turned, monsters’ ears perking up. Distraction was underway with blins and other beasts raising their weapons in a cry for war. Archers upon the tiered tree took aim as the two heroes began their assault, unaware of Twilight on the adjacent isolated cliff’s edge. Flames erupted from the fire rod with Warrior taking sweeping strikes to inch forward. “Aim left, kid.”

Lighting another bomb, Four chucked it at the closing in Moblin and grinned as it took air. He looked further on. “Watch it!” he shouted just as an arrow whizzed past his ear.

“Someone’s not doing their job!”

Said bokoblin fell before it could notch its next arrow. 

* * *

It was atop the cliff where the others lied, leaving Twilight as sharpshooter with Link at his side somewhere in the middle. His only cover was the winding trees and measly bushes, but a canopy of leaves hid him well. 

He breathed, drew back the bow’s string, waiting for Link’s word. 

The said boy eyed Four, watched as he tossed another bomb for a monster Link had never seen before. “Now.”

Releasing the arrow, Twilight breathed out just as both arrow met its mark and the resounding explosion of the bomb covered it. 

They were making good progress. From their position, the young man could see out over the winding hills. More monsters were noticing the commotion and the challenge below, their orders forgotten as they set their carried barrels down to find their weapons and join the fray. Not all, but many. Perfect. Bringing his fingers to his lips, his bird call echoed. He repeated before returning to his bow and the archer with peculiar electric arrows. “How are the others?”

Link looked further out where the monsters at the top of the cliff had been stacking barrels left their positions to check on the fray further down just as from the bushes the gleam of armor gave Time away. The flamed wizzrobe, floating above the blins and other strange monsters spotted him just as the rest of the heroes sprang out with swords at the ready. Wind burst forward, his boomerang swooping over and curling until crashing upside the monster’s head almost knocking it to the ground.

Link smiled to himself. If there was one thing he’d learned after all this time it was that monsters were easily distracted and even easier to move right where you want them, including away from the very explosive barrels so a couple of armed Hylians could surround them. From this distance it was difficult to see, but blins fell into satisfying dark mist. It was difficult to tell if the blood itself was black or it was the dark malicious magic he associated with Ganon. “Seems to be going well.” Surrounded at both sides, while the battlefield large, and Twilight at his perch, they could do this. A flash of light caught his eye, Hyrule surging down the hill with Legend at his back. Soon that damn tree would be coming down and Link will never have to worry about monsters using it as a base again. This was too good to be true.

As all things are.

Experience with Revali’s gale was strange. He paid attention to wind currents and updrafts, noticed when a sudden shift in direction meant a storm was coming. 

The gentle tug at his clothes was too innocent for its origin. He whipped around, dagger in hand, but it was nothing compared to the swirling dark vortex, a deep void between an arc. “Twilight!” he shouted just as he spotted something in its depths, clawed fingers and scales, taller than the Lizalfos and snout too long, heads too sleek. Surrounding it were the familiar and foreign monsters that the others fought below. 

But it was its eyes that caught Link off guard, blood red and all seeing.

Link held his dagger, a stupid little dagger that wouldn’t pierce armor but maybe cut a tendon if he could get close, yet it was obvious the thing was lithe and used to a good fight. “Twilight!!”

The monster growled before rushing forward, just as an arm grabbed Link around his middle and lifted him off his feet. A clang a metal resounded ear piercing. Twilight didn’t wait for a second strike, dragging them forward until Link shoved off so they could run full speed. “What is that thing!?”

Twilight still gripped his arm to drag him through his tripping feet. “That’s what we’ve been chasing. It controls those portals.” 

Portals. That’s a portal. He was running for his life with the epiphany that these guys weren’t insane after all. Portals and strange monsters, sciences only Purah and Robbie dabbled over in the middle of dinner in Tarrey Town. This was real.

“Keep running!” shouted Twilight, dragging them forward where the cliff would lower into an easy hill to reach where Time and the others had initially hid. “We have to warn the others.”

As trees gave away and the battlefield came back into view, Link realized it was already too late. The area was already infested with monsters. Now it was piling up as dark arches closed their portals behind the reinforcements _—_ weapons drawn and hungry grins. 

With his back turned, Twilight couldn’t see the bokoblin rushing forward, and the dagger in his hand felt hot. Link surged forward just to slide across the grass and let the blade meet the monster’s vulnerable legs.

It howled, but Link wasn’t done, because he was quick to jump back to his feet, the monster thinking it could bash him away with its brittle wooden shield, and aimed for the heart.

The bokoblin fell away leaving its weapons behind. He picked up the club when one of his bokoblins, silver, pushed Twilight back. _If he used stasis, he could—_ kneecaps, aim for the kneecaps. He didn’t have the power of his older form, but any bare kneecap would shatter at the impact. 

It was Twilight who made the final blow and the monster fell away from another to take its place. Not good. 

“Wind!”

Link turned in search of Four and Wind, somewhere further down the cliffside, and between the bobbing heads of monsters and sweeping feet, just flickers of the blue tunic was visible crumpled to the floor and Four over him. “Twilight! Wind’s down!”

The man cursed, blocking a monster's attack just to block another at his left, and Link realized he wouldn’t make it, not even if he tried to run to them.

But the wooden shield still laid in the grass.

Link didn’t think twice about picking it up. The slope of the hill would be just enough, the dagger and club barely held in the same hand, and jumping just out of reach of a stranger monster’s clawed hands, he leaped onto the shield. He nearly pitched forward, but crouching low kept him secure, slipping between the legs of a moblin and curving out of the way of a wildly thrown spear, until he barreled into the blin closing in on Four and letting his speed push the dagger into its shoulder. It cried out just as the boy spun around with his knife at the ready, except it was Four from behind the monster’s back that jammed his blade straight into its back—

Wait, what?

Link blinked.

There was a Four standing over Wind’s body as guard, and another over the crumbling monster, the only key difference being their colored tunics. 

Okay, yah, okay. He was gonna grill him on this later, because right now there was a black moblin bigger than any moblin he remembered seeing. Their arms don’t get that size, its back hunched strangely. 

Four, the one with the green tunic stepped between them with his sword raised. “Link, you need to run.” Already the one with the red tunic was dragging the unconscious Wind from the fray. An explosion went off to his right. Is there another Four still throwing bombs to draw attention away? 

But Four was just a few inches taller than him and that wasn’t anything impressive, not when the moblin towered, tongue licking its chaps as if coming across a bite size snack. He couldn’t look away when both Four and the monster rushed forward in the utter chaos. 

And chaos described it perfectly, especially when a spear whizzed past his shoulder. A bokoblin more humanoid than not — Twilight’s — raised a second spear with a battle cry. _Royal bow with electric arrow, then a sword to its—_ but Link could handle at least this. When it charged, he swung the club directly into the charging spear and watched it sink into the wood. He could work with that. The Bokoblin grinned with too many teeth until Link yanked to the side, the bokoblin falling with the connected club and spear, and it was quick work to finish it.

He looked back just as Four’s body flung. There was no scream of pain, just a child falling several meters, rolling from the force. The black Moblin chortled deep in its throat, too deep and scratchy from anything Link recognized, and when it stepped forward to finish the job, _—bomb at its feet—_ Link did the only thing he could think of.

“Hey! Snot-nose! Over here!” It’s eyes caught his, and Link’s lungs seized. It reached to the closest bokoblin and without remorse church it straight for Link, forcing him to roll out of its way, then charging. Okay, good. He had its attention. Link spotted the discarded shield and dove straight into it, letting the momentum take him further down the hill with the Moblin right on his tail. Ahead was a rusty sword stuck in the ground that he leaned over and caught as he passed, pulling it and redirecting himself to the next flat ground, that being just under the tiered tree that Hyrule was working on.

“Link, what are you doing here!? It’s about to come down!”

That was Legend fighting off his own plethora of monsters. At the base of the tree stood ‘Rulie panting with his magic sword in hand and a good chunk of the trunk cut into. It was almost time. Link called out to Legend, “Help me get this guy in position!” he jerked a thumb back to the trailing Moblin coming up on them, just one of many in the area that encased them, surrounding and vicious for blood. 

Downing the small fry that’d been on Legend, the man nodded. “Leave it to me, let Hyrule know.” With that, he shouted, “This way pig head! Eyes on me!”

Link ran, taking out the leg of a bokoblin that tried to intercept him. The brittle sword may be dulled, but it did its work and he wasn’t completely useless. Habits and techniques adapted to his size kept him running, dodging and slipping between legs and over swiping swords until finally reaching ‘Rulie, the young man’s hands glowing red and warm. 

“Link! What are you—”

“No time! Bring it down, bring it down!” This close he could feel the heat of Hyrule’s magic on his face, the young man placing his hands to the tree's bark and surging energy through it, until flames bled out. Looking up, he watched how it began to climb, swallowing the tiered landings with incredible speed. Hyrule had hacked its trunk with powerful strikes, and if this worked right, this would deal with the majority of the monsters. This was why Four and Warrior were meant to urge the monsters back this way. Legend looked up only for a second before running, the black moblin he’d been fighting wiping at its eyes from whatever attack the man had used. 

“Now!” 

Hyrule raised the blade once more, the blade itself encased in ethereal warmth, the bracelet on his wrist too glowing, and Link took a step back as the man wound up his arm and swung with incredible strength. 

There was a second of nothing.

Then came the crack of wood and Hyrule was suddenly picking him up and running before the scaffolding could fall on them. 

“Timber!” 

Link watched over ‘Rulie’s shoulder as the moblin only looked up, its hungry grin wiped away to horror as the inflamed tree came down. Then it was out of sight, the thud of the tree falling like a Lynels roar, richoteting from the intensity, and the wide breadth of the tiered landings collapsing like a bird with its wings splayed across the field. 

Flames engulfed, and what a remarkable sight. That was maybe a third of the encroaching monsters crushed in a single act. It wasn’t over, but the odds just tipped back into their favor. Hyrule set him down to lock blades with a blin’s claymore. He was really getting sick of people carrying him, not that it mattered because there was a blin of his own charging forward. Link pulled the shield over his head, holding it by its edge to be vertical in the air, and threw forward and smiled as the blin’s head jutted back from the impact.

He spotted Warrior’s scarf at one point, the man holding his own with a mix of sword and fire rod to keep from being overwhelmed. He quickly surveyed what was left of the monsters and standing companions. Did Wind and Four make it out? He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Has anyone seen Wind!?”

Those in proximity shouted back no’s and monsters' war cries. Four would have taken him hopefully out of sight, and Link found himself working back up the hill. He could see Sky way up ahead pushing back a wizzrobe with Time on something akin to a bokoblin if their stomachs were tripled in size. If he was honest with himself, Link could feel fatigue kicking in and it burned at his legs. 

They must be around the bend, he’d thought to himself, dodging monster’s splintered club and dropping it quickly. He’d just reached where he’d last seen them when red caught his eye. Unlike the blins, it was scaled and quiet, didn’t snort and chortle at the thought of easy prey. No, the leader that came from that portal was silent, towering, and waiting. Link paused, the thing’s eyes locked onto him, realizing that it wanted him to find the others, to lead it to them.

Link stood, glaring right back in a tunic too large and shoes pinching awkwardly, a sword only swings away from snapping and the satisfaction that it wouldn’t get what it wanted out of him. Perhaps it noticed, because its pupiless eyes narrowed and grip tightened. Its sword dark like obsidian absorbed the light that should have reflected off its surface. 

“Well? I’m right here!”

It did not need further taunts, launching forward with the speed of a lizalfos and forcing Link _—stasis—_ to dodge to the side. It followed, and Link dared not try to collide blades. His strength would never hold, and it was a dance of dodging and rolling. An opening. He needed an opening _— electric rod, ancient spear, magnesis, age and strength and agility and—_ and he had none of those things.

He ducked just to have to roll before the sword would split him in half. The Sheikah taught him well, but he was winded. Before he could even get to his feet, it fainted left, Link dashing to the side, just for it to swipe across for his head— and Link jumped, the action practiced so many times it was like those habits from a life he couldn’t remember or escape. And the momentum would send him back onto his feet, his enemy not realizing his own natural speed or how he could surge forward with his own power to its exposed torso in a flurry rush.

Only Link didn’t realize this monster’s cleverness, how it forced him to move how it wanted, that when Link’s feet touched the ground, it was to an unsteady hill he could never keep his balance on. Link fell back, tumbling down the slope until the world spun. When his body stopped and eyes didn’t, he blindly grabbed for his blade, only to spot the dark clawed foot of the monster, and every fiber of his being screamed out. He looked up just as the beasts jutted his blade forward—

Yet he felt the encasing warmth of lava rock and bolstering laughter meant for brothers and boisterous parties.

Orange filmed his vision along with the echoing ricochet of the monster’s strike. Daruk’s protection encased him in honey and promises that a shield brother would go down with him if he had to.

Another ricochet, like a drum, pounding, pulverising— over the crystal shell that protected him. The beast did not cry out or growl, only kept its strikes powerful and precise, hitting the same place on the dome over and over.

The shell was cracking, branching with every hit, the sound deafening to a mind with no plan. _Think, think, think!_ No slate. Revali’s Gale used up. His sword was on the other side of this monster. The others are too close to rely on Urbosa, what if he hit them? What if they saw and thought him—

 _You're going to die if you do nothing_.

He screamed when the next strike sliced off the top of the shield and Daruk’s protection fell away, the monster raising its blade to strike. 

Link raised his hand and snapped.

Thunder roared over him, his ears popping as every muscle in the creature tensed, a startled cry coming from its maw. But it didn’t collapse.

It merely turned its gaze back to him with intense rigor that froze him on the spot.

And for a moment it wasn’t that thing standing over him or grass tickling his palms, but malice eating up his sides, encroaching, aching— eyes too knowing yet faithless, giving up humanity to consume and take and take _and take_ —

And nothing stopped the white hot pain striking at his stomach. 

At least he saw Sky raise Link’s swo— no, _his sword_ — the master sword to strike at its back—

His vision blurred and fingers went numb. He’d help finish it off in just . . . a minute . . . 

* * *

_He brought the ocarina to his lips_

* * *

Zelda told a story of a boy named Link one evening inside Kakariko Village. His father, a respected knight, had little time to grieve the loss of his wife and brought his son along with him out of their small Hateno home and to Castle Town where Link’s aunt could raise him. But children hardly sat still, begging to follow his father, meeting knights and cadets inside the peaceful castle and the Zora of the Domain. It took a single encounter to befriend the little Zora prince. Children had little to worry about other than bedtimes and playdates.

But childhood is never as long as it should be, and playing close to the Lost Woods, chasing a pesky lizard always just outside of his grasp, found him coming across his fate in the shape of a sword too large to sheath on his back. Zelda had looked at him then, her smile pained and sorrowful, voice wet as she spoke. “No one deserves such weight.” 

She spoke of memories he didn’t have. She said his father was a kind man, and told him how Link had been his whole world. Even after he pulled the sword he never looked at him differently. Link wouldn't have known what she meant if not for meeting the Zora. 

Muzu was blunt.

But Link agreed. 

Rumor had it that a hero arose, one capable of pushing back ash and waste from Calamity once and for all, someone better than the brat a hundred years before. 

Perhaps Muzu meant to compliment the young man before him compared to the failure of a hundred years ago. “A stupid kid that all of Hyrule was supposed to put their faith in! He’d barely escaped his babysitters before that king called him their prophet just to take our princess down with him!” Muzu did not recognize the young adult before him, did not consider the line of scars or tense frown. 

Link didn’t know his real age. Impa said he was young, too young, and Link never asked for clarification. 

And it didn’t matter because he hurt so many people. He ripped Sidon’s family apart. His failure forced Zelda to pick up his slack and leave an entire kingdom to a monster’s mercy. 

What was he besides a stupid brat way in over his head? He’d wiped his nose before approaching that lynel above the Zora Domain, realizing that now was his time to fix this, to fix everything. Because this time he could be the hero, finally having the reach with his blade. Purah would be his final mercy, a final chance to become something worthy of his title. 

Yet he still wasn’t good enough, huh? How many times had he thanked Mipha for her grace? She’d told him once on top of Vah Ruta when Zelda’s beckoning would lead him to storm the castle once and for all that they were children playing war. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand much of anything. 

Even now, when his eyes refocused and feelings became images and the warmth of blood cooled compared to his breath, he did not understand why someone was crying. People don’t cry for failures, only for what they lost. King Dorephan choked up when speaking of his late daughter just as Zelda did for Urbosa. Parent and child separated by death never got easier, she’d told him, and the guilt he felt didn’t either. 

So why, after Mipha placed a gentle kiss on his temple, did he feel the sharp edges of armor pressing against him, to braced arms enveloping him and a wet cheek against his head? Waking up was always strange, like his fingers weren’t his and lights too bright. Seconds like hours took for him to place slick palms against the breastplate and push. 

Why when he pushed away from Time did he look at Link like that? 

Suddenly hands held each side of his face, a thumb brushing his cheek too heavy to be normal, shaking. Blood coated his ears and hair from the hands but so did it soak up his tunic at his abdomen. Before him, Mr. Time’s eyes, both of them, stared wide and rimmed red. The left one, he noticed, lacked a pupil or iris— was it from an accident?

Link pushed again. “Your armor pinches.”

Like touching an electric wire, Time flinched away and Link finally got to sit up straight and see the aftermath of their stunt. He could hear Warrior and Legend counting off the remaining enemies. It was almost over then. Sky stood just a short distance away, eyes wide and master sword in hand coated in black blood. Did he kill it? 

A startled gasp reminded him of the rest of the entourage with Hyrule suddenly jumping to his side. “Let me fix this, lay down Link— you’re going to be okay—“

“I’m fine.”

“You will be, I just need you to—“

“I’m healed okay!?”

He lifted his tunic— more red and mud than white with a puncture he would have to apologise for— to a smothered stomach but not cut. He wiped his hand across it to show the unmarred skin under muck and blood, ignoring the scars but at least no open wounds before tugging it back down. 

It was like it fell on deaf ears or vengeful ones because once more he was pressed into the breastplate. Link tapped at it, trying to get Time’s attention again, but the man held him tight, voice shaky when he requested, “Give me a moment.”

Link sighed. He felt sticky and could hear the last of the monsters be slain, the squeals obnoxious to his exhausted mind. “The leader— did you get it? Did you find Wind?”

Time’s fingers tensed, but he answered softly, “He’s okay. Twilight hid him.” He did not answer his first question. But Link didn’t try to push away again, instead fully leaning his head against the breastplate and breathed. The area where the sword had pierced ached oddly but just ghost pain. Mipha ensured it wouldn’t scar which he was grateful for. 

“Everyone’s okay,” he asked.

“Yah, you’re all okay.” 

It took minutes for the others to join them and more to soothe. He was okay, so was Wind and Four who suspiciously stood as just one person. If Four hadn’t fidgeted so much, he would have asked right then what kind of rune he used, but maybe he would save it for a quiet moment.

Hyrule looked as worn as he felt having used so much magic and it’s agreed they should finish and move on. The smell of burning flesh still lingered but the barrels had to be moved, those injured unstacking them carefully away to be blown up individually. “We’re out of arrows,” Twilight noted once they’d finished, and by then it was getting close to evening. Wild was back in Four’s undertunic instead of Wind’s shirt with most of the blood dried.They at least let him walk. Considering his knowledge of the terrain and monsters, it was still quick, but the weight of battle exhausted several of them. Wind seemed to be doing okay, just a “lucky hit,” he called it. With how shaken Time had seemed, Link wasn’t surprised when the man walked beside him at the front of the group with a constant hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m okay, Time.”

He didn’t think the man believed him.

When the boots had rubbed painfully into his heels, they reached the planned halfway point. He didn’t think this place had a name, not one in the records or of Zelda’s recollection, but the old foundation of a house still stood alone in the forest.

“What’s with the flag?”

It wasn’t much of a flag, more of a strip of red fabric tied to a few pieces of wood. “Marker,” he answered, though by their looks they hadn’t expected him to know. “There’s not a lot of foot traffic in here, but it means this area is relatively safe to rest.” Not far from it, after all, was a setup cooking pot. 

They entered between the broken foundations, climbing over rubble and the flora that learnt to climb it in twisting vines and leaves. Weeds dotted the edges like they would on cobblestone paths, flourishing with how few caravans or travelers disturbed them. 

Grumbling led to someone gathering wood, another lighting a fire and the rest huddling closely. The somber tone was not lost on Link, but maybe they hadn’t had a fight like that in a while. He too had much to think about, several revelations clicking into place from the story he thought to be something they pulled from a fairytale.

“So, you’re not crazy,” he deadpanned.

Now that led to shifting eyes and something other than glume on their faces. ‘Rulie was the one to respond. “Pardon?”

“The portals. You’re seriously from another time. You’re not a bunch of loons or mercs pulling my leg, or some cultists wanting me to join your Link fanclub . . .” He turned to Sky, spotting the familiar purple hilt. “You seriously forged the sword?”

Warrior pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hold up, you didn’t believe us yet let us accompany you?”

“You’re weird, sure, but you didn’t kill me or sell me out to the Yiga. That was kinda the turning point, you guys protecting me.” They had every chance to finish him off. They could have left him to that moblin that first day, given him up to the Yiga, run away even— but over and over they protected him. 

“He called us loony cultists.”

“Not now,” someone whispered.

Sky smiled. “I did forge it. I knew the spirit, though according to the others, she’s been asleep for a long time. Have you met her: Fi?”

This was the first he’d ever heard of anything like this. Records revealed several names: Evil’s Bane and Sword that Seals the Darkness, sometimes just magic sword, but Fi was not among them. When he held it, it was just a dull blade until it decided it had enough energy. It simply sat in his inventory unused until . . . hmm, he wondered. “Can I see the sword?”

“Sure.” Sky pulled it easily from its sheath, laying it across his palms to present to him. Initially, he believed Sky to have taken it out of the slate, but with the knowledge of the portals and varying eras they came from, what if it’s just a copy carried across time? 

In Sky's grasp, he studied it. The hilt's paint was fresh, a vibrant purple and leather wrappings new. The blade itself . . . He remembered in those moments in the inner sanctum when blood dripped from his brow how the sword's light flickered to an indescribable hue, a shimmering kaleidoscope of unworldliness that when it was over returned to the dullest grey.

That wasn’t the case. What was in Sky’s hands wasn’t blinding, but it wasn’t dull either. It was ethereal, gleaming strangely with the last of the day's rays and firelight, but it was beautiful. Fi was a nice name. 

“You can hold it, if you want.”

Link looked up to Sky, curious. He reached out. To get to hold the sword unflawed, not worn from time and countless battles his ancestors fought, to feel its raw power—

It was like a switch.

Just as quickly as its gossamer details came into view, intricacies that had faded from wear, it was the broken dull thing he found in the Lost Woods. Robbie told him malice had eaten its edges like a disease, and the sunkenness was familiar and made his stomach flip at the same time.

The soft gasp to his left was nothing compared to the words ringing in his head. 

Sky gently pulled the sword back, and once more life returned to it. The panicked look on his face relaxed but still pensive. “She’s— it’s never done that before.” Even now, he kept his grip featherlight like he would be the one to shatter it after it seemingly . . . rejuvenated. 

It was Four then who leaned forward curiously ignoring the deathly silence around them. Whatever joke Hyrule had been telling Warrior never reached the punchline, and the dried beef in Legend’s hands sat forgotten. “Do you know why it did that?” Four asked.

Link swallowed, studying it and what it could mean. “It. It looked like how mine does.”

“You mean for you era,” said Twilight. “It looked sick.”

That’s a word for it. Seeing it in its former glory, when it radiated warmth and peace— a horrible question crossed his mind he dare not want the answer to.

His throat ached.

And maybe they were catching on that something wasn’t right. Surveying around himself, Legend focused on destroyed foundations with a dark look in his eye. “There’s so many ruins it seems.”

But telling them the origins would be an answer to that question he didn’t want answered. “Most you saw were Zonai.”

“Zonai?”

“In the Faron woods. . . Ten thousand year old race gone extinct. They built the divine beasts.”

Twilight perked up curiously, leaning forward when Wind asked, “Like a monster?”

“More like,” Link started, looking into the distance just to huff in annoyance. “They’re not in view here, but they’re big mechanical machines.” 

“. . . Your era is so strange,” commented Wind.

He spotted Twilight deflating, resting his elbows on his knees for reasons Link didn’t know. Yet he considered Wind’s words. “Hmm, you have horses, that’s more than Wind’s era. You have bokoblins too and a form of wizzrobes.”

“Do you have octorocks?” Hyrule asked.

“Yep. There’s species that can even clean up your swords.” Not that it helped the master sword.

“Lynels?”

“Yah, I’ve fought them before. They’re hooves are good for reinforcing boots.”

Warrior was the one to pat him on the head. “You don’t have to lie. It’s okay if you haven’t fought one— we won’t judge.”

He swatted at the hand. “But I—“ right. He hadn’t told them about the slate and what it could do, not that he thought he did terribly today. He was weak, slow, and maybe stupid in his choices. Grown so used to quick adaption, sudden shifts and instant weapon changes, it was weird to be so limited, but he knew how to bring a dumb bokoblin down. Nonetheless, what they said gave him some interesting insights. Not knowing about the divine beasts meant they weren’t directly after the Zonai’s fall (though Twilight’s reaction was confusing). There would have at least been some records, stories past down to be lost somewhere in the later centuries. If Sky is the first to wield the master sword, just how far in the past were they from him truly?

That same question from before popped in his head.

Time stood from his place against the ruins. “We should get going.”

Link looked around the others, each all doing the same, but it was Four to speak up. “It’s almost nightfall. We already planned to stay here.”

“Link, when do you think we’d arrive?”

Link ignored that this was the first thing the man had said since reaching the rest spot. “If we left right now, maybe by midnight.”

“I’d feel better if we were in a town. You said Hateno is safe, right? And everyone’s well rested from a night sleep at the stable. We can rest during the day while Link runs his errands. Plus,” he added. “We didn’t pick up a bedroll for you. You’ll freeze.”

Twilight sighed. “Time. . .” The younger man looked up at him, and whatever he saw forced out a sigh. “You’re right. Wars, any juice left in your fire rod?” 

“ _My fire rod,_ ” commented Legend.

“Yep.” Said man patted at his belt where it hung, glowing against the evening light. It would work as a lantern, Link realized. 

Twilight sat beside Link, leaning forward with his back to him. “Alright, get on kid.”

“I can walk.”

“It’s dark and going to get cold.”

He paused. “I still don’t think you’re all named Link.”

A snort came from Legend, the man not looking him in the eye. “You know anyone else who can hold the sword?” That was also getting annoying. It was like he couldn’t stand looking at him.

“Zelda.” 

“But Zelda’s are a part of the timeline — we’ve all got a Zelda variant, too.”

“Whatever,” Link said, giving in and holding tight when Twilight stood up. This was fine. It was better than walking on blisters and Four was telling him how he’d never seen the master sword before all this. Time still walked close, Warrior guiding with the fire rod and Legend with one electric. Someone set a blanket around him, maybe the sailcloth _—_ no, that was covered in blood _—_ or Warrior’s scarf? The pelt on Twilight’s back was soft and nice to snuggle into.

It was easy to doze, and doze he did.

A question still rung in his mind:

_Was it my fault?_

* * *

_Time. Time time time time— Time who never had enough time. A Link who’d faced gods and nightmares, wielding strengths of deities never having enough time and trying again and again and again and again to be the hero they needed— again and again to chase things others forget— to leave a legacy of boys raised to be tools all because he ran out of time._

_He knew that lightning attack, had waited for the moment their foe would return trying to take the little hero down with it. It was like a clock chiming directly in his head demanding he hurry, run, stop them, save Link—_

_Nothing existed around him, not the monsters he struck down that stood in his path or those thinking them clever to come up behind him. The spear that nicked his elbow did not matter or the shooting pain in his ankle._

_He weaved between foes, uncaring of their confusion or the shout of Legend when he passed, because the smell of ozone and burnt flesh still lingered, and he would never let this monster reach one of his own._

_But time had never been on his side._

_Seconds moved too slow, his feet too slow and his mind unready to comprehend what laid before him — oh so slow. Sky kneeled in front of him, not the assassin but someone who should have been out of reach, safe and away from danger that seemed to lurk in every corner of this world. The master sword laid at the man’s side still coated in black ichor and nothing like the red painting the grass and soil, soaking into the sailcloth bundled and pushed at Link’s stomach._

_He caught just the wisp of the portal closing and the one thing Time wanted to hurt the most._

_Because when he fell to his knees, bringing a hand to Link’s neck, there was nothing there but cooling skin, no thrum of blood and life, and no stupid eyerolls and swatting hands to tell him to give him space. Sky stopped pressing down on the wound. He knew. He leaned back when Time pulled the boy into his arms, more bone that fat, too pale with stark blood on his cheek. Link was gone, the one he meant to do the most right by and his chance gone._

_And Time shakily sighed, realizing what he must do. Under his breath, he whispered his apologies, and hoped he’d only have to do this once._

_It was never far away, much like all the other things he promised he would never use again, and the cord strapping it in place broke away easily to his shaking grip. Oh how it radiated such visceral blue like untouched seas and endless possibilities, yet it weighed like the sky and stung of a hot iron on bare skin._

_No one may remember, but he would never forget how he failed._

_He brought the ocarina to his lips—_

Time woke with his heart in his throat and lungs too large for his ribcage. He sat up, pressing his trembling hands to his face trying to calm himself from his memories before he could wake the others. Morning’s light had only just seeped through the house’s windows, one he didn’t get a good look at considering their late arrival. Yet he paid little attention to the decorum or his dozing companions across the living room floor, climbing the stairs two at time until reaching the loft and its lone bed. A single candle lit the bedside table and occupants. At its feet laid Hyrule, ever so concerned and unwilling to miss a chance to dabble over the injured far after they’d healed, not that he blamed him. Time stepped over him carefully.

Wind laid with arms sprawled out and mouth grossly wide, and beside him, taking the edge of the bed and curled around his pillow laid Link.

He placed a hand over the boy’s nose, silent, holding his breath to listen, and held back a relieved sigh when he felt the hot breath against his palm and heard the soft snores. Alive _—_ they were all alive and well and yesterday’s events were over.

There were too many things to count on hand that were wrong with this era. Time had much to say about the goddess’ meddling in just his own life let alone the seven heroes that were picked up on the way. Then this latest land spoke of things he didn't want to think about, things he didn’t like to remember with strange magic that denied death. . .

Time didn’t like to think of his own adventure. They were memories fitting to nightmares, compartmentalized for years until Malon forced him to address them, and even then those moments were spare, kept to sleepless nights and pillow talks. He saw things he shouldn’t, especially for his age. 

Then this land spoke of devastation. Ruins littered more than settlements and its people just as scarce among the wilds. It was untamed much like Sky’s surface but spoke of battle like Warrior’s. Something was very wrong yet the traveler’s they passed were seemingly unaware. The first they ever spoke to only stared at them oddly for knowing nothing and asked if they liked bananas. 

Then came the knowledge that the hero of the devastated land was a little boy that booked it the second Hyrule looked away. A sort of Sheikah assassin thought these heroes to be easy pickings and resulted in losing the little Link’s trail, the same assassin likely looking for Link.

His heart clenched and memories flashed at that stable hand’s nonchalant manner that the little boy he’d only seen at a glance would somehow take on the growing hordes in the forest. They’d seen it, all of them, the dozens upon dozens of beasts taking up the tropical terrain. How was anyone supposed to handle such numbers on their own? 

The Sheikah assassin returned but they must not be their intended prey or perhaps it was a game. If only he’d grabbed Wind’s arm to stop the damage from the bomb’s explosion. He should have been faster, realized that Link wasn’t safe yesterday, should have known no hero no matter their age knew how to stay out of trouble just as much as trouble found them. If he’d just been there _—_

Yet Time opened the cottage’s front door to crisp mind-clearing air, the day’s first rays painting the sky in pinks. There should be a food vendor in a town this size, and they all deserved a hot meal. Pushing away memories and dreams, he crossed the creak's bridge.

* * *

By the time Link woke, the loft was empty, and he stretched in the comfort of his own bed still shorter than he wished but at least surrounded by something familiar. Safe. It was the growl of his stomach that forced him up, and the cool floors creaked pleasantly. Such sound in the forest was like an alarm, but in the comfort of Hateno it was just another feature, a useless tidbit unneeding of him to watch his back.

And thank goodness for the stop. 

In the drawers by his bed he found something that wasn’t a tunic like blanket but something that would actually fit him in a nice forest green. And pants! Wow did he miss pants! They were tan and durable so no more scraped knees. 

Socks made from the town’s farmer’s sheep were soft and actually in tack. No more blisters and breaks needed (he noted the gently wrapped bandages someone must have treated him with). His own shoes! He dashed down the stairs at lightning speeds, taking two steps at a time and nearly knocking over Warrior’s in his gust to reach the storage beneath the stairs. Finally! 

Oh, and a real belt to hook the slate to once Purah finished her work. He stood up suddenly, feeling whole and sound with himself with the promise of food just settled on the dining table. It wasn’t perfect, a gaping hole of foreignness took up the place where the Sheikah slate should be, but it was the closest thing he'd felt to content in a long time.

Twilight spotted him first, a soft smile on his features as he nursed his porcelain cup. Guess they’d made themselves at home, empty plates stacked on the kitchen counter and much of their troupe missing. He spotted eggs and biscuits, and could smell the bacon since he woke up. 

But Time, dressed down to just his undertunic, looked at him with a perplexed look, something uncomfortable and unseeing. He stood still having stopped mid-step at the sight of him. Twilight’s gaze followed but did not stop Time from excusing himself to step out the front door. 

It was too early for this. “What’s wrong?”

Twilight looked on where his leader stepped away. “I think you remind him of someone.” 

Pacing around the edges of his home, Warrior eyed the blades and shield like an appraiser. “Nice stash you got here, kid.”

If that wasn’t a subject change, he didn’t know what was. “Thanks. Found most of my weapons.”

“May I,” he asked before a royal guard sword. Link always thought it interesting that the blade was so dark with the familiar wing guards pointed opposite to the master sword. 

“Sure.” 

He unhooked the sword from where it hung, taking advantage of the open space to test swings. Bedrolls had been pushed to the edges of the room before he came downstairs. “And you’ve wielded this?”

There’s a small surge of pride. His collection took up half the room these days with a great flameblade and fire rods on his ceiling to act as additional lighting. Everything in that room was earned from long nights of travel and cruel trials. “Yah?” 

“And the rock one too?” He gestured to Daruk’s sword.

“It’s called Boulder Breaker.”

“You did?”

“I can?”

“How?”

“By—” oh no, “I mean. Yah, yah it’s heavy . . .” Link bit his lip. He could only hide it for so long but he’d prefer to have a working slate in hand when they did figure it out, and hopefully with a way to get them back home. “I’ll explain later. Gotta get this to Purah,” he said, pointing at his discarded pack by the front door that still held the Sheikah slate. The quicker he got it to her, the faster he could access the rune and the better he can handle all of this. 

Outside sat the rest of the heroes lounging around his front lawn like a bunch of lazy partygoers. It was warm and Hyrule rested under the tree's shade, Legend and Four following the creek down. 

This would be quick. He waved at Hyrule as he went off towards the bridge. “Be back!”

“And where are you going?”

“Across town. Go shopping or something while I’m gone.”

Link didn’t wait for a response, quickly passing the cubed housing, the dye shop, waving at the sweet granny near the inn. Of all the places across the land, Hateno was his favorite. There was something about its tranquility, with rolling hills and windmills atop, and stretching field for farm animals uncaring of the dangers past the treeline. It was untouched by Calamity unlike so many other places with all its citizens armed. Where Lurelin felt like an out of touch vacation spot, Hateno was a home. There were few places he felt safe enough to be in this younger form, and Hateno’s citizens knew him more as Link, the little boy that liked a home cooked meal, more than _Link_ , the bane of the Calamity. His trek up its hills was slow and peaceful so unlike his life the past forty-eight hours. He had a lot to think about, with eight strangers calling him their own and a story so strange yet the sword that seals the darkness in hand. The more he witnessed them, the more true it became yet still incredible. Hateno was supposed to have the answers in the shape of textual and scientific confirmations, and as he stood in front of the observatory’s doors, he took a breath.

He knocked before entering only to smile at the sight. 

Purah, in all her three and half feat of glory seated on top of the grand table, snapped her book shut. “Nope, this isn’t it either.” She tossed it onto the growing stack beside her, the one of many towering stacks of books taller than herself at all sides. 

It was her assistant who spotted him first, a new pile of books in his hands pulled straight from the shelf. “Oh, master Link!” 

“Wait, Link— Link!” Purah looked up and beamed at the sight of him. “You were needed here yesterday, where have you been?”

He prepared to speak, then paused. He didn’t think about how he would actually tell her. “That’s kinda why I’m here.” The bag around his shoulders grew heavy. “There was an accident.”

“Accident,” she repeated, looking him over for injuries. When she found none, she asked, “What kind are we talking about?”

“The kind only you can fix?” He pulled the pack from around his shoulders to hold, stepping over loose notes and scattered books. 

“Uh, oh,” commented Symin. “You’ve seen the portals too, then.”

Link stared back.

“Travelers spoke of anomalies across Hyrule Field, monsters they’ve never seen before coming from dark portals.” This further confirmed Sky’s story, and it meant their scope was much larger than just Lurelin. 

“Has there been Hylians coming through them?”

Symin cocked his head. “Not that I know of?”

Okay he’d get to that after. “So maybe not as big as that, but I may have had a run in with a hinox? I was checking on some monsters gathering up in Faron Woods the locals were talking ‘bout. Said they bled black blood.” Did he even check? Everything happened so fast, and suddenly he’d been the one running for cover. He reached into his pack, his fingers brushing the cracked screen. “And the slate unhooked from my belt and . . .” He presented the cracked slate to her like a child shamed of breaking their favorite toy.

It was more than that. The slate was so much more than that, and that proved true in Purah’s horrified gasp. She swiped it out of his hands in a flash, turning it over in her hands and spotting the dull eye of the Sheikah symbol. She eyed him, face pinched and with an authority that reflected her real age she said, “tell me everything.”

* * *

Time and Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know of any issue!
> 
> Funny enough, the fight was supposed to 2k works the most. The total chapter is almost 9k and it only just scraped the beginning of Hateno. OTL
> 
> Also you can find art for chapter 1[here](https://www.instagram.com/p/CJ94YVOJF54/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link).


	5. Calm Before the . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I hope y'all enjoy! <3

With not much to do but wander the small town, Four found himself peeking through the dye shop. The colors of his tunic were beginning to fade to dull dirty renditions of their monikers and a fresh dye would be pleasant. Plus something to get out the last copper tone of his undertunic would be nice. 

The salesman himself looked at him with a pensive look. “Can’t just dump and run with this one. I’ll have to dye by hand.”

Four had no idea what this meant and he would not ask. 

So it was while dressed in only the white undertunic studying the different bottles of dye and their components that a small body barreled into his back nearly bringing down the entire vial rack.

“What kind of rune did you use?” asked a very familiar voice, and Four almost elbowed the kid in the face trying to cover Link’s mouth.

“Wha-Shhhh!!! Not here!”

But Four couldn’t help but screech when the damn kid licked his hand. He wiped the stupid saliva on his pants while Link continued to question, “So what is it? Duplication? What’s the recharge?”

“Shut it! Elsewhere, Link! Elsewhere!” Four eyed the shop owner who hadn’t even looked up from his work and pushed the kid around the edge of the dye shop. Several people wandered the main road but not close enough to notice the two slip around the corner.

Link swatted away his hands and feigning annoyance by crossing his arms. The glee in his eyes betrayed him. “So spill it.”

Yah, there was no hiding it or blaming it on a knock to the head like he did to Wind. Looking around once more, he took a deep breath and recited the speech he’d had saved in his head the first time Twilight found out. “It’s magic,” he admitted, “but the only ones who know are you and Twilight, and I’d like to keep it that way. . . It’s a long story and I’m not ready to talk about it.”

Link stared at him oddly and Four crossed his arms in wait of the entourage of questions as children often do.

But instead Link asked a different question. “You guys are allowed to keep secrets from each other?”

And as young as Link may look, Four knew too well how a quest forced you to grow up too fast. The independency with a weapon, preparing meals, somehow managing to nick a pair of boots whether through barter or stealing— he knew how to keep himself alive, and that does not come without trial and error. Four was lucky for Ezlo and his grandfather, and Link at least had a real house unlike his earlier fears. But it meant that if given the option to isolate? He will. Four chose his words carefully. “I mean, sure, you should tell us anything that might be helpful to the group, or avoid harm. But we don’t need to know everything about our lives. But hey,” he said, setting a comforting hand on the kid’s shoulder and squashing down his relief to not be shoved away. “It’s nice to open up to people.”

Link stared at him suspiciously before something clearing. Four smiled genuinely. He would not pry. The kid constantly gave him near heart attacks but Link seemed to thrive on surprises. Maybe one day he would give them something that didn’t come as a surprise in the midst of battle.

“Thought I heard you!”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Four turned to the approaching figure of Wind, the kid waving cheerfully. 

“My, My,” said Wind, spotting Link. “Looking good in green. Did you wear yours on your adventure, too?”

“Huh?” asked Link eloquently.

“Hero’s tunic? Color of the chosen? That’s a thing around here, right, ‘cause even Twilight has it. Also what are you doing back here like a bunch of thieves? Get out here.” Wind didn’t wait before turning back to the front of the dye shop and Four could only shrug at Link’s quizzical look. Whatever, he should check to see if his tunic was coming along alright. Four spotted the man still leaning over several small barrels of supposedly dye.

Behind him, he heard Link ask, “What were you saying about my tunic?” 

“Oh, I think everyone has other traditions, but around my islands,” Wind explained, “when you’re of age, you get to wear a green tunic like the hero of Time.” Wind laughed. “It’s actually the day my adventure started.”

“I don’t— we don’t have anything like that here.” 

“Yah. I guess it’s just a weird coming of age thing.”

“How old?”

“Twelve,” Wind said just to scold Link’s odd look. “Hey, twelve is a perfectly good age to go adventuring. I defeated Ganon in like three months!”

But Link sounded appalled, making a choking sound that Four spun around to check the damages. Link was pale. 

“Oh please, stop gawking. You were young too, weren’t ya? Kids doing the adult’s jobs around here gotta stick together.” Wind shot a cheeky grin towards Four that the teen didn’t reciprocate.

“ . . . How old was Time?”

Wind shrugged at Link’s question. “Who knows, probably a cranky teenager like Legend.”

But Four looked at him, the same gears spinning in his head at the same saddening thought. Four was young, too, but at least at 14 he knew how to swing a sword with precision. How old were the rest of them when their stories started?

How old was Link again?

At first glance, his eyes often caught the raw skin patch on his cheek. The boy had scars running down half his body, eating up his ear and hairline, with a stare that knew to look for dangers— waist, back, sleeve, boot in search of a blade. He studied the landscape with Legend’s precision and vetted trust like Hyrule. 

“. . . You know, Link, I still have those octoballoons.”

“You have what?” Wind leaned between them, eyes darting back and forth.

Four had noticed that Link wasn’t exactly ignoring him, but certainly wasn’t engaging in conversation if Wind didn’t lead. This would be good for them. Four quirked an eyebrow.

And for a moment, with the smile reaching his eyes with a cheeky playful he hadn’t seen before, his youth shined through.

Link’s attention drew to the hillside, looking up the single building at its tops. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” 

* * *

Twi rubbed his eyes from the midday sun with too many thoughts and a dreaded conversation ahead of him. Sky just finished telling him what he saw yesterday. . . Truthfully, when they had finished battle and saw Link, blood soaked and drifting against Time’s armor, his heart seized. He was supposed to be watching Link, the kid should never have anyway near even a rock to trip over. But Sky had shook his head with eyes still haunted by whatever had happened and none of the others commented how Time grew silent. Warrior and Twilight had looked at each other, then. Each knew that if it should happen, the two of them would step up as leaders, and it was they who looked over their teammates to ensure them safe for travel.

And it was Twilight who pulled Sky aside, still failing to catch Time’s mile distant stare, to hear what happened. 

In the quiet away from the house rinsing dishes in the small passing creak Sky’s hands paused over his plate and sponge. _“He wasn’t breathing.”_

Even then as Twilight had spotted the kid heading out past a house, the nightmare of burying one of their own so young clouded Hateno’s natural peace. How strange they must all be, to be so heavily armed in a town where the only seemingly guard was a farmer and his pitchfork. He called out, “Hey, kid. How’s your errand going?”

The boy slowed to let him catch up.. “It’s — it’s going.”

“And the princess?”

“She isn’t here. She went to study the portals.”

Twilight furrowed his brow. “By herself?”

The kid snorted. “Just wait ‘til you meet her.”

“I see. Can I talk to you for a moment?” 

“What are we doing now?”

“Walk with me.”

“Actually, Mr. Ludwig asked me to call back his herd for tonight. Follow me.” Before Twilight could protest, the boy headed past the gathered houses passing a field of trellised plants. The young man followed silently, eyeing smiling neighbors huddling to gossip. Link didn’t seem worried, so much like Lurelin there likely weren’t Yiga in the area to worry about.

He did however eye the strange blue glowing fire. “What’s that?”

“A furnace.”

“It’s blue?”

“Sheikah invention or something. Purah says it feeds into the planet’s energy. Best battery source.”

“What’s a batter— you know what? Nevermind.” He was learning some things were best left unanswered and to push elsewhere anyway. The said sheep were easy to spot, a flaw of white across huddled together at the edge of the pond. 

They’d barely walked halfway when Link waved his hands about in a manner that would scare them off. “C’mon ladies!” 

Except— Twilight stepped forward when the sheep ran over a little too quickly— they called out happy bleats trotting up to him. Twilight had to step back to avoid their bumbling bodies trying to get close enough and sniff Link’s hair and clothes. 

“Easy, let’s get movin’.” Careful to extract himself from the circle, Link walked off headed back from where they came, following the easy sloping hill, and Twi, unsure of what to do, followed right after them. 

“They seem to like you.”

“You give ‘em a treat _one time_ and suddenly they’re making you their leader.” 

Twilight could vouch for that. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d fill his village’s goat’s troughs just to end up with one of the old timer’s wanting scratched behind the ear until half the day was over. The thought pained him, to be so far from home. Rusl would love this Link. 

Up close with dusty white coats full and ready to be sheared anyday, the sheep bumbled along like trailing ducklings. Until reaching a pen. “Can you get the gate?”

Twilight obliged, his sudden movements startling to the sheep, but Link kept their attention well as they followed behind. He shut the gate just as Link hopped up on the fence to sway his feet. A lamb pounced around him and Twi settled next to Link, leaning forward over the fence to splay his hand for it to smell. 

“Her name’s Momo.” 

“Hello, Momo.” It didn’t react to the name and soon lost interest in the stranger to find its mother. Twilight looked on, noticing the icy mountains and the distant pond, to the tilled fields and the echoed clangs of metal work in the village behind them. Four probably already found their blacksmith and was watching with keen interest. 

How strange that an evening walk later and it was like they found a place untouched by ruins. All that laid were farmed fields and homes ranging from stone to peculiar painted block wood. If he didn’t think about it then yesterday never happened and Link hadn’t left his sight. To run up to them, Wind and Four in tow, and see the deep red paint his tunic like some sort of canvas had been a whiplash of so many nightmares after his own adventure. In that moment he saw not Link, but Colin and blood mixed with bulbin’s laughs at his weakness— _too late._

Hateno reminded him so much of Ordon it hurt. 

But Link merely kicked his feet from his perch on the fence annoyed with the fact he couldn’t touch the passing sheep to pat with his foot. 

He took a moment to breathe. Children preferred bluntness but at the same time weren’t great at giving helpful answers. “Sky told me what happened— why you were covered in blood.” 

His feet continued to kick. 

“Are you doing okay?”

“Fine. Little scratch isn’t gonna knock me down.”

Twi grimaced. He asked Sky one question before leaving the man to daymares and silence. _“Did you see an aura?”_ The wind magic— when they were lifted out of Lake Floria, they had felt the same presence, like an eagle’s feathers brushing at the edge of his vision just always out of reach. The answer. . .

“You act like it’s normal”

“It is my normal.”

Twilight paused. “Does it hurt?”

His heart pounded like a clock. One, two, three, fourteen. Fifteen achingly long beats for Link to confirm what he’d already surmised. “Yah….”

“Is this another one of those blessings?” It was what he called his wind magic. 

“Yah, . .” He snapped his fingers to catch the attention of a bulky sheep that trotted up to the boy with little bleats. “My sister gave it to me.”

A sister? She must have been very powerful, especially for her spell to seemingly last, even after—. . . He remembered asking Wind if Link had opened up to him. 

_“He doesn’t have any family. He’s all alone.”_

— even after death. 

The longer he stayed in this era the greater his stomach knotted. 

Link patted the sheep’s head, digging his fingers into its wool. “I have a question.”

Twi boxed away those thoughts for later. “Ask away.”

“You had a Ganon, right? How long did it take you to defeat it?”

 _It?_ Twilight looked to him and his swinging feet, careful to not kick the sheep laying its head against his lap. “About a few months. They were long. I almost didn’t think I would make it, but . . . My friend got me through it. And for you, Link?”

Kicking feet like a metronome, soothing and trance-like. Link voiced his answer between the creaking fence and trotting hooves, just over the bustling of the main street behind them in a mumble even he couldn’t catch.

“How old are you, Link?” 

The boy shrugged. 

“Link, there’s no shame in age or time. You said things are getting better back in Lurelin, and that’s all that matters.”

“I don’t belong with you guys.”

The growing speech in his head stuttered to a stop, mind blanking. “What? What makes you think that?” When he didn’t respond, he said, “Link, don’t shut me out.”

“You don’t even know me.” 

“I know you can cook. I know you snore. I know you don’t like dried beef— actually that might just be that you don’t like Wind’s curing.” Link’s fingers paused in his petting, and Twilight continued. “I know you don’t trust easily and you had to learn the hard way to stay alive. But Link?

“I’ve thought of you as one of us since the moment we found you. When Hyrule told us who you were, I already called you one of my brothers,” he said, leaning forward to catch the boy’s eyes. “And I hope one day you’ll think of us the same.”

The moment would have been sweet if that sheep didn’t think his hair to be an offering of hay. Twilight nudged it away just as the softest sound escaped that kid’s mouth. He giggled. He actually giggled like being let in on an inside joke. Twilight smiled though Link’s own didn’t reach his eyes. He could read the scepticism clear as day, and that was okay. They had time. Legends jokes used to be as potent as a viper’s bite, and Hyrule once slipped out in the middle of the night with a bag packed until coming to learn they weren’t alone in this. If Link hadn’t been reliant on them to make it to Hateno safely, they would have been chasing his footsteps trying to explain themselves. Perhaps this was the best scenario they could have asked for. 

“Purah wants to meet you guys for lunch. I haven’t told everyone yet.”

Accepting the olive branch, Twi nodded. “Okay, let’s go get them.”

“Actually, I’ll meet you there. Gotta finish a few things before tonight, so just head up to the top of the hill to the observatory.”

Knowing it was more likely he wanted a moment alone, Twilight accepted, heading back to the cottage. 

* * *

Time could only think the peace was a lie. 

Hateno laid nooked between easy slopes, trees lining its perimeter and a cliff’s edge a local said hid plenty of gems. 

“My daughter once found bits and bolts just sitting there! Though my husband thinks it’s from the witch on the hill.”

The words from the farmer’s wife brought a sour taste to his mouth, sickly sweet much like the town itself. And yet Link had dealings with this witch? Purah? The same woman he was supposedly with now to fix the cracked slate? 

When his nerves calmed and that shade of green left his vision, he returned to the cottage just to be pulled back out and past the shops and windmills up the sloping hill to the witch’s house.

They spotted Link speaking to a woman at one of the mills, the boy carrying a crate to the building’s side to be stacked along with a dozen of its copies. He waved as they approached. “Took you long enough. Wind and Four are already there prepping.” 

“Alone with the witch?” asked Wars. “Sounds like she ain’t too popular around town.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to Time. “Never even talk to her and give her a nickname. You’ll like her,” he said, matching his pace. “She thinks she’s my mother or something. You’ll get along.”

Such a thought snuck a fond smile over Time’s lips. It was nice knowing Link had an adult around to keep a wild kid like him in check. Four wasn’t shy to talk about Link shield surfing straight into an enemy. While the word witch still left him cynical, the annoyance on Link’s face was of a child told off out of love rather than spite. 

He also couldn’t ignore how his clothes sent him down long memories he preferred to bury. They were both much too young for their fates. 

Wind spotted them first, resting on a corner of a large picnic blanket with an assortment of dishes. At another corner, Four sat alone. Were they fighting? There were two more occupants with white hair, one being a matured man and a small girl, maybe seven and shorter than Link, similar attire to the man. Were they relatives of the witch?

But Link stopped between them, speaking with the young child. “Purah, Symin, meet the portal jumpers.”

The little girl perked up, pushing red rimmed glasses against her nose and smiling with glee. 

. . . _Oh._

Time gave back a pained smile. “A pleasure to meet you. We’re glad to meet any friend of Link’s.”

Time looked to Link and the girl that stood smaller than him. He was . . . sensing a trend. 

“Come, come sit! There’s plenty to eat.”

Legend looked around curiously as he took his place on the blanket. “Is Zelda coming?”

“Ah, Zelda will not be joining us,” explained Symin. The man sat relaxed but with a notebook and charcoal in hand. “The princess is studying the portals just outside the castle, which segways perfectly into our topic.”

“Not gonna let them eat first?” joked Link. “Or introduce yourself?”

Purah scoffed. “Excuse me, how many times am I going to meet time travelers? Grab snacks, chop, chop! I’m too old for this! I’m Purah, a researcher and Sheikah. Symin’s my assistant. Respect your seniors, blah blah blah— let me hear from you.”

Weird. Weirder and weirder this land showed itself to be when the town’s witch Link said nagged him like a mother was just . . . a child herself. It didn’t take anymore prompting for Hyrule to settle in front of a plate of baked goods, Legend seated beside him to make a plate of cut veggies and meats. Time eyed the purple cakes but went for the cut apple slices. Less chance of it to be charmed. He took a seat at the edge of the blanket until Link nudged him forward, the boy choosing a seat at an unoccupied corner.

The witch— Purah rubbed her hands together greedily. “So, time travel. Reports of sightings only date as far as four days ago, that being just outside of Tarrey Town— Robbie was the one to send me the details. Considering the Rito and Gerudo’s distance and lack of sheikah tech, I haven’t gotten word of anything from them yet. You’re all— if this is the truth,” she added, sharing a look with Link, “— heroes of old?”

Despite how Time may be leader, this was a casual discussion and one that the others could carry easily. Warriors was the one to push back his bangs and say, “Something like that.”

“All soldiers?” she asked.

Legend shook his head. “No, far from. Pretty boy here and Sky were.”

“Sorry, Sky’s me,” the man said with a wave. “That’s Legend. The captain here is known as Warrior.” The rest of their names were quickly offered to avoid confusion.

Purah nodded. “Because you share a name. Fascinating. The odds of each of you coincidentally sharing the same name, each becoming heroes of your land and through the same portal. Perhaps the goddess isn’t as hands off as I thought. Wind, dear, pass me one of those scones, won’t you?” 

A hand off goddess. Time wondered what he would be like if that were the case. Happier, maybe. Sleep easier. Much the same could be said about the others. Though youthful, experience weighed heavy in their gait, shown in joint pains and scars. 

He did not look at Link.

Four, who had been mostly silent at his edge of the blanket, spoke up. The boy sat back lazily, picking at the skin of a fruit Time didn’t recognize. “Purah was telling me she has some info on the portals.”

“Right, right. There've been a few portals popping up closer to here Symin and I were able to study. It’s incredible, it gives off the same wavelengths as malice.”

 _Malice?_

Hyrule worried his brow. “Like dark magic?” They’d shared many stories between each other, others left for only themselves to know. But one thing they found to be a similarity among several of them is the presence of a dark magic not meant to be there. Sometimes it took a physical form. “Like a dark Link?”

Symin suddenly began to write just as the young girl asked, “You mean like a counterpart? An opposite or malevolent energy to the Sheikah’s power sources?”

“Uhm.”

Legend took over. “More like a shadow that’s been a thorn in our sides. Just a puppet of someone else’s work manifesting where it shouldn’t.” 

“Interesting. Perhaps, maybe malice is an evolved form of your dark magic. My colleague will tell you all day magic doesn’t exist, but not everything can be explained with machines. The blights—” she paused, sharing a look with Link and biting her cheek. She cleared her throat. “. . . I’m unsure where this land fits in your timeline — it’s difficult to know with so much of our history ruined — but we could be talking about something that comes directly from Calamity Ganon.”

What did she mean by that? Did she mean the Zonai history? Time considered Link’s words just the other night, a careful dodge about the ruins they’d past with only their foundations as proof of their existence. He said they’d mostly been Zonai in the Faron woods, but what else?

What had been lost to defeat their enemy?

Legend scoffed around his sandwich square. “From Ganon the pig head?”

Beside him, Twilight sat tense, unfocused. 

Here, Time interjected. “We’ve seen variants of Ganon across our own adventures, from King of the Gerudo to moblin. Though much of his power was from the artifacts he stole. Cursed paraphernalia mixed with his own talents.” He looked at the young girl and her note taker. “I didn’t think such power would be possible without a goddess’ intervention or the triforce.”

Symin wrote faster. 

“King of the Gerudo? Trifor—” she cut herself off once more. If judging her pensive look, she had dozens upon dozens of questions to ask like a child with the craft of a researcher. Yet her eyes flicked to Link once more and Time followed her glance. 

Link sat with gritted teeth but not in anger. Was that worry?

Purah cleared her throat. “It appears we hold some differences. Nonetheless, I’m afraid at this moment I’m unsure if the portals can be controlled but we believe can be predicted. Right now Zelda is following traces in Hyrule Field.”

“By herself?” Sky asked. 

“She can handle herself,” Link cut in. “What was that thing that attacked me yesterday?”

Warrior took to the reigns for this, noting how their leader worked his jaw and the purposeful change of subject. “It’s a monster of a species none of us has seen before, and it uses odd magic. It can seemingly open portals at will, and we’ve been essentially tasked with chasing it.” 

“Tasked by Hylia herself?” Purah questioned.

“Not sure how to explain all of us being able to meet if not.”

Purah pursed her lips. “Would you say it had traces of malice, Link?”

“Nope.”

“A dead end, then, but a creature unlike any of you had seen? Perhaps one merely from a different era?”

“That’s— that’s an interesting take,” Warrior credited. “Something none of us had faced because it’s also out of it’s time.” 

“It’s not much for a hypothesis, but questions can be saved for later. We need samples, data— see if it shares the same traces of malice or these infected monsters. Which reminds me, I do need samples of this black blood. What’s a traveler brought to me spoiled before getting here.” 

Was she really suggesting they purposefully approach it for a science experiment? Did Link run these kinds of errands for her? 

Twilight’s hand found his arm. He breathed deeply. This was the supposed girl that Link relied on, that he needed to fix that magic slate, and it would be over soon. 

Speaking of: “How’s the slate going?” Time asked.

Purah turned to him with peaked interest. “Decent. I’m running diagnostics inside, but I should have an idea of the full damage and timespan by tomorrow. Some parts are already replaced, but in the end it’s nothing I can’t fix.” 

Hyrule, while having mostly stuck to snacking on berry muffins, wondered curiously, “Y’know I’ve been wondering what a machine like that does. You were using it when I first met you.”

Though Link’s focus followed Time, Purah answered. “It’s a storage unit with some extra quirks. Incredible technology founded in the time of the Zonai ten thousand years ago. The extent of its capabilities are still being explored, but it was a significant tool for Link’s adventure.”

“How so,” asked Warrior.

“Bombs for one, able to both produce and act as detonator. The technology is incredible. So much of it had been buried and only rediscovered a hundred years ago.”

“Link mentioned the Zonai before and divine beast?” reminded Twilight. 

“Oh! You can see Vah Naboris from here!” Link stood up pointing out west. “Just, it’s uhh— right there! See, between the mountains.”

Time followed his finger, shading his face with the hand and leaning around Sky. Far out, nothing more than the size of an oak’s leaf, stood a four legged statue. 

“A statue?” Wind voiced from his corner of the blanket. 

A smile crept into Purahs voice. “Far from. It walks, even runs if it's sturdy enough ground, with an energy output so high our instruments still can’t measure it.”

Time stared dumbfounded. From that distance to be visible, it must be towering. He didn’t understand what she meant by energy output or how it could ever walk if it's the same stone as the slate Link carried, and he wondered if this land must be deep into the future.

“Chief Riju of the Gerudo pilots it,” commented Link with a smile to his voice.

“A Gerudo?” asked Time before plopping another apple slice in his mouth. He remembered the great thieves of the desert. To have survived to control such power, possibly in good relations with the crown— 

As the others stared awed and babbled among each other, conversations switching to questions of Sheikah tech and the Zonai and what’s a Naboris, Twilight leaned close, their shoulders touching as the young man spoke hushly. “It. When I was talking with Link earlier, he called Ganon an it.” 

He stopped chewing, the apple’s sweetness growing stale.

He turned to Twilight, the man’s face kept neutral.

What did he mean by that?

Purah suddenly stood, brushing off her shirt from any crumbs. “Well, you’ve all been lovely, and I know a few someone’s have been waiting to do this since you got here.” She stepped off the blanket. “Have fun!” 

“What does she—” 

It didn’t matter who asked it or the fact Time wasn’t in his right minsa because they should have known. Four and Wind had been oddly distant from each other. When Time had meant to sit off to the side of the blanket to keep his distance, Link had nudged him forward and taken another corner. Symin too had placed his journal and charcoal aside at his corner of the large picnic blanket. The others all sat in the middle of their trap. And really, how did he not notice that the blanket’s corners were modified with rope knotted around them, that the potent smell of fish didn’t belong to any of their foods but the octorok parts Time would later learn Four bought in Lurelin. It was the perfect mousetrap. 

So when the octorok balloons suddenly swelled enormously and the edge of the blanket lifted, Time couldn’t stop his momentum much like the others, earning a knee to his gut and an elbow at his face, his own foot jamming into someone — was that Sky cursing? He shouldn’t have been surprised when they suddenly lifted, six men piled onto each other like fish caught in a net.

“Are you kidding me!?” 

“Stop moving!” 

“Shorty, you bastard!” 

From outside— below — Wind called out, “And yet you wonder why you’re up there!” 

Laughter sang out as the men groaned and barked at each other. 

“I swear to Hylia — whose ever armpit this is, get it out of my face!”

Usually, Time would panic in these types of situations. They were atop some hill, the supposed town witch with their youngest members, his sword switched out for a simple dagger for discrepancy.

But as the high pitch laughs of the young bellowed under them, the green tunic scars imprinted on his mind, questions from Twilight’s words swirling like a typhoon and only himself being a speck in the vastness that is Hylia’s reach, a pit of dread festered like an infected wound. 

Dark magic. Malice. Blight. Divine beast. Calamity Ganon. It. A vacant goddess replaced with technology and children bearing the weight.

He was going to be sick.

* * *

They— their enemy carried a physical form, something a sword could slice through, not the bubbling miasma of malice and ghostly beast that haunted the castle and possessed machines, that took out champions and a stupid kid in a single swoop. They had things he’d never heard of, never seen. When was the last time a male Gerudo had been born? What’s a triforce? Is this a power that could have turned the tides or something worse than malice? 

Did they all win the first time?

They were questions he wanted answered so much, but acknowledging his ignorance, for the others to know his lacks and differences that had nothing to do with circumstances but because he wasn’t good enou—

_Stop._

How do you tell someone that it’s your fault that they passed more ruins than homesteads? That you’re the reason your master sword, the blade meant to seal the darkness, was sick from malice eating it away because he couldn’t be strong enough? Fast enough? Good enough? Telling everything was good now because he had the Sheikah slate and strength now was only an admittance of his own shortcomings that he knew all too well and didn't need exposed. Because in the end who would let accept a tool that couldn't do its job? 

_Hyrule’s asking you a question._ He shook himself from his thoughts because thinking on it only made his heart race and stomach churn. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I was asking if the streets usually empty this early? Is there a curfew?”

Their walk back from their lunch had been mostly quiet. Once Legend remembered the knife in his boot and some haggling, six men fell away from their trap, landing in a heap that brought those in on the plan into another fit, especially when Legend realized his hat was given _special treatment_. Wind had nabbed it in their moments of confusion, giving it its own rope and octo balloon with no one currently carrying a bow or boomerang to get it either. 

It’d been a delight to see the group’s usual antagoniser hopping like a child reaching for the sun, but that didn’t wade off what day it was. Purah didn’t keep them much longer, asking a few questions about monster blood and mutations, a little bit about their adventures they were willing to share (Sky could only smile sheepishly when she asked the physics to an entire floating city), but still she too knew they needed to be getting back. “Blood moon’s tonight.”

“Oh, is this a tradition?”

Link bit his tongue. They would learn sooner or later, whether through him or seeing it themselves. He’d been preparing for it half the day anyway, getting farmer’s livestock back towards the village and moving any possible food indoors. “No, a blood moon rises tonight.”

“What’s that?”

“All monsters slain are returned.”

A pause and quick confused glances shared between swordsmen was all the answer Link needed. They didn’t have an existing variant and his steps quickened in pace.

“So,” started Sky hesitantly, “the cycle doesn’t stop for you?” His words were strained.

Link already expected something like this and kept his words clipped. “Basically. Keeps you busy. Main roads have to be cleared out again. We’re safe in town— they don’t come this far, but it’s a precaution.”

“So, our battle on the cliffside, all our resources and effort — it’s all for naught?”

“Maybe, maybe not. You said black blood was unique for your current enemies, right? I don’t know if they resurrect, too.”

Link noticed Sky had moved closer to him, and the strain in his jaw was obvious. “That’s not what I meant.”

Link shrugged and thought of the words he’d told Twilight earlier that day. “It’s all I’ve known.” How many things that were his norm were completely unnatural? “They can wander too close and I handle them.”

Of all the people to speak up, he hadn’t expected to be the one person who hadn’t said a word to him all day. “Not tonight,” Time told him. 

Warrior nodded. “Right, we’ll take watch and deal with anything that gets close.”

“Seriously?” Link sighed. The slate was maybe hours away from being back in his hands if Purah was right, then he could go back to handling things himself. 

“We’re heroes. We’re not just gonna sit back and do nothing. We’ll set up a basic patrol to check the perimeter.”

“And what about sleep?”

“It’s something we would normally do on the road anyway. We’ll take shifts.” 

This was his job . . . This was supposed to be his job, his responsibility, the thing he could do _right._ They were powerful, and it was so obvious, and he could be too with the slate— 

“With the portals opening, we don’t know if this . . . blood moon will be normal. Consider it an extra precaution.” Warrior spoke simply and logically, which only confirmed his feeling of uselessness. “You’re tired, aren’t ya? You’ve been running errands all day.”

He wasn’t.

“Yah,” agreed Link. “Yah, whatever. Just don’t be stupid, and try to be quiet. Town’s still trying to sleep despite it, y’know?”

“Great. So how do these blood moons work?”

………………………………………………..

He didn’t sleep. He never slept on nights of the blood moon, his nerves like electric wire buzzing with energy, waiting. It wasn’t uncommon for him to patrol just in case. Though few monsters kept to this area, some could wander close, lured by lights and smells, interested in the concept of breaking things just because they could. 

Time, Warrior, and Legend patrolled. The rest sat around the cottage, Wind commenting on his lack of furniture. 

At some point Twilight nudged him away from the loft’s window and back into the kitchen. “They’re fine, kid. Worrying won’t change anything.”

He was right, which was why he accepted the mug of tea Sky offered him. The man had removed his sailcloth and chainmail some time ago with the master sword lent against the kitchen table. Even after everything Link told them, how could be so relaxed? 

_Because they’re capable,_ he thought to himself. _They don't rely on a machine to best their enemies._ The tea tasted like nothing. 

Then came a clatter. The knife in his boot suddenly in hand, Link spun armed and ready to Four and the fallen trident. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry! I was just curious! I didn’t mean to—” 

He tucked away the knife. “Put it back.”

“Sorry, I really am.” The trident’s charms clinked as he tried to set it back into the display. “I haven’t seen that kind of craftsmanship on a mid-range weapon.”

“It’s Zora.” 

Twilight perked up at that. “You have Zora? Friendly?”

“Yah. The Domain is north from here. . .” A small part of him wanted to get across the significance, tell Twilight how that was his sister’s, that the bow adjacent was from the Rito that didn’t hold anything back in spitting truth in his face every chance he got, that these were artifacts of the people he failed—

But instead he only stepped forward to help set it back into its pedestal. He didn’t want their pity or their judgement, couldn’t handle it anyway. 

Eyes turned to him curiously. “I don’t think I’ve met a Zora that didn’t try to gut me,” joked Hyrule. He sat on the stairs away from the others, flipping through one of Link’s books he’d never read. 

“Same,” said Four. Though I can’t say mine were intelligent enough to make weapons, especially like . . .”

That’s— that’s interesting. He couldn’t imagine a life without the Zora or becoming friends and brothers with Sidon, Kind Dorephan like an uncle with so many stories he forgot what he came to the Domain for. He eyed the great eagle bow. “What about the Rito?”

All stared blankly at him. Sky scratched at his chin. “I think Wind mentioned them once, but no. Do they know speech?”

Of all the people, it was the one asleep in the loft. “Of course.” This was bizarre. “Wait, can your Zora speak Hylian common?” he asked, because none of this made sense to him. 

And it was in their distraction that it happened, that Link missed the potent scent of magic like the threat of a storm on the horizon, a vortex of fluctuating energy that would set off Purah’s sensors. He should have known as he always should, and that did not stop the rampant fear when Hyrule noticed a strange noise from his seat on the staircase he decided to investigate. He opened the door only to scream and the trident clattered to the floor once more, all eyes turning, Sky jumping from his seat at the table, Twilight surging forward to stand between them and the silver moblin. Link only saw the aftermath of the shoulder shattering hit from its boned club as Hyrule was smacked to the side like he weighed nothing, back connecting with the kitchen’s drawers. 

Twilight had sped on his side, but this was an enclosed space with too many allies, Sky brandishing the master sword trying to flank the monster but the gap too narrow. More times than he would like to admit he’d felt the breathtaking kick of a moblin’s foot to his gut, and Sky suddenly shared the same experience as he was pushed back, leaving an opening just long enough for Twilight’s sword to sink into its shoulder, Four’s sword into its thigh, and, for good measure, a trident through its belly. 

It’s body fought for only a second more before falling away to ash and waste.

Something was wrong. 

While Four and Twilight went to check on those still trying to get up, Link could only look out the open door and what laid of Hateno. The moon’s cinnabar light paved the town in peculiar vermilion and shadows so reminiscent of the castle it made him sick. But never could it hide the eyes lurking within it, chasing the perimeter with unquenchable thirst. And it soon became too obvious that their numbers were unnatural and too close, that the growls rumbled so loud he swore the earth shook. The clang of metal could be heard among it all of a fight of matched enemies. The hate was so potent he tasted it, a layer of ozone, like after a strike of lightning leaving his nose burning. 

Something was very wrong.

Rushing past him, Twilight called out. “Hyrule’s injured. Wind, Link, stay here with him.” He didn’t stop, heading for a scaled monster similar to a lizalfos. Across the bridge. Sky stepped around him, too nudging Link back towards the house. 

“Stay here! We can handle this!” 

Four past him without a second thought, not even looking back. 

This wasn’t good.

The miasma was thick enough that he coughed. The sky was painted maroon, town shaded red from moonlight. The ricochet of weapons sounded among snarls and cries, but just ahead, across the bridge, he recognized the dark vortex instantly.

He ran back in to find Hyrule sat against the counter just as Wind came down the stairs. “What’s happening?”

“Attack.” Link leaned over Hyrule, the young man's eyes squinted shut and gripping the wrist of his injured arm. “Stay with him.” 

“Wait, not without—”

“Don’t let anything get in.” 

Quickly, he turned back to the display of weapons. So many and so few he could actually use at this size— but he had a Yiga’s sickle in storage. He dashed under the stairs as Wind continued to protest. He just needed to get the slate. He needed the slate. This was his job anyway, his mess to cleanup, and a chance to prove—

Wind leaned over him and the box of short weapons. “Don’t go around treating me like I’m useless!” His anger faded with the outburst, his look turning to one of defeat. “We gotta stick together, y’know. So don’t treat me like I can’t handle myself.” He stood defiantly, weapon already on his back, boots on even though he just woke up. 

And he saw a reflection of himself. And maybe Link realized he’d been seeing a boy and not the hero that took a bomb to the face and called it a scratch. 

“I know you can. You’re not useless. I just need you to trust me, alright?” 

_Because I can’t be useless._

Wind clenched his fist, looking over to Hyrule who was seething from the pain and back to Link. “Be safe this time, alright?” 

“I will.” They shared a look, an understanding that Link would unpack later. Right then he ran forth, passing over the bridge as he saw the form of Four heading towards the entrance of the town, Link himself sprinting with his weapon in hand slipping through the streets. 

They sounded everywhere, their growls a cacophony between buildings and he ran past just in time to see another portal open. But he couldn’t stop, not until he had it in his hands. 

Record time, he climbed the hill and slammed open the doors to the observatory. 

At the pedestal in the corner sat his Sheikah slate, Purah just before it raising her goggles at his entrance. “Link, thank Hylia you’re here, something’s wrong.”

“Yah, I can see that. I need the slate.” 

“No, I mean fluctuations. They're everywhere. Zelda’s instruments are going crazy in Hyrule Field.”

Zelda. 

He could teleport. “I’ll go to her.”

“Not with the slate you will— teleportation is completely disabled.”

No no no— “We have a problem here too. Everyone’s fighting and I need the slate.”

“But it’s not ready, Link. I’m not that fast!” 

“Purah! I need the slate now!”

“Link! You can’t— it’s not ready. I haven’t even— just.” She stepped between him and the pedestal. “Link I’m doing everything I can but it’s not ready.”

Heart beating his throat, a chill crawling down his spine at what it could mean, he asked, “How bad?”

“Just let me talk, okay?” She spoke quick and precise, a report being given with urgency. “I managed to save the storage unit. Everything in there is fine and seems to appear and compartmentalize correctly with no hiccups. Like you said, the Sword that Seals the Darkness isn’t in there, so it’s not a copy that your friend has but the real one.” 

That’s good. Good news. Okay. It wasn’t even a bother because he never used the sword anyway. “What else?”

“When I was running diagnostics on the runes, I found a flaw across them.”

His head shot up. “What kind of flaw are we talking about?” He couldn’t go back out there still a small child. Not again, not after everything.

“Maybe it’s because of the battery itself, but the energy output isn’t the same to the point that the runes’ power is much shorter than it should be. I haven’t tested them but I’m sure the recharge is longer too. Maybe not enough energy to use them at all.”

His hands shook. “And the age rune? How does it work now? Does it work?” Because that was the key to everything. 

“Everything I’m reading says it works normally but just energy is the issue. Before how you could go a whole day without turning back will not be possible. Maybe, I don’t know, hours at the most? I need a field test to actually know.”

He looked to the slate: the cracked screen had been replaced and the eye hummed with blue swirling power. It looked fine, should be fine, and its shape felt perfect in his hands. 

“Guess it’s time for a field test.”

“Link, stop.”

He pulled it from the pedestal and didn’t look back, its weight grounding like no other and his actions familiar as he flipped through glowing screens. This was right. Clothes switched to something barbaric and strong, best for mobility and strength, and without any issue either— his heart soared, control finally back in hands. He flipped to his runes and didn’t think twice before pressing the age rune.

And he found the milliseconds of weightlessness as soft as a mother’s embrace, knuckles popping and feet finally filling his shoes right, the speed he ran to the hill’s side quick and the easy tap at the slate just to hop onto the appeared shield as natural as walking. Twilight told him he belonged with them, and he did— in this form, where his knees didn’t buckle at the impact, where he could see overhead the mounds of monsters suddenly realizing his approach too late, when the vicious sickle in his hands was as precise as any sword.

When he was a hero.

…………….

Warrior’s held his ground well. While he may have been stuck out furthest from the village, it left him plenty of room to work, where his strikes were raw and powerfully yet coated in discipline. How strange that what had been only a few monsters rising like time flowed backwards to sudden portals and beast trespassing in the wrong era. 

He thought he saw Time at one point, maybe Twilight fighting with ferocity. The crimson light made everything strange with stark shadows and a layer of _something_ that shouldn’t be there as heavy to breathe as smoke. 

At some point Legend must have joined the fray, a strange weapon in hand striking down the enemy from a distance. His pegasus boots must have made it easy to get out this far and Warrior’s would appreciate the help. The monsters were relentless and he spun only to spin again, ducking away from keese then blocking clubs and rusty swords as thunderous footsteps approached. 

He recognized the hinox from the Faron Woods. Oh how strange to be so large and dangerous yet only wear shin guards when its soft belly was the perfect target. Such things were why he finished his bokoblins before even turning around, taking in its one humongous eye and worn teeth. 

However, he didn’t expect the whistle, the monster curiously turning to Legend as he waved his arms about.

“Over here!”

And that wasn’t Legend’s voice with monsters still fighting him as he lured the hinox his way. Were they crazy? _Oh, Hylia._ It was probably a rancher trying to get them off their land to try to save it. Cutting down the pestering keese, he followed, just before recognizing a suddenly appearing blue glowing box in the figure’s hands — his heart lurched. This was—?

The bomb exploded and the blins were pushed away. The shape was off, their head too large for the Yiga they’d met in the forest. He couldn’t tell from this distance, not with a stalfos suddenly catching his attention and more meddling keese overhead. Yet he pushed forward, chasing the hinox when the figure suddenly drew back a box and a red tipped arrow, one that set alight in orange flame straight for the monster’s single eye.

It’s backside falling straight for where he’d been standing and if not for his reflexes, Warrior would be squashed. 

“Watch it!”

The being eyed him between striking at a lizalfos and its raised shield, metal on metal striking sparks. He watched from the corner of his eye how the weapon suddenly switched to something glowing blue much like those bombs but rather the blade sharing the familiar glow from the dull hammer— a strange shaped sword that ate through the metal of the lizalfos’ shield before it squealed. 

But their back was to the towering monster that had recovered from the shot to its eye, the organ a luminesce yellowed webbed in irritated red. Though panting, Warrior ran just as the hinox raised its hand as if to smash an annoying insect.

“Hey, look out!” 

He barreled into him, knocking the two to the side, and Warrior took note too late the animal furs and headdress unlike anything Legend owned or the citizens of Hateno. Red hair invaded his vision, a color none of them held, and one that often— He jumped back looking into feral eyes.

The skull helmet curled around their face, hiding much in stark shadows, but it didn’t matter. He knew the significance of the color red— it haunted all of them. 

This was an enemy.

So Warrior raised his sword before the being could stand, clashing down on disturbed grass as the being rolled, pouncing to their feet with a club similar to the one the moblin he took out earlier used. 

He would have rushed them, but the Hinox was far from happy to be ignored, for the sudden tree thrown between would have easily snapped bone. 

The two looked at each other, Warrior with disdain and certainly the same beneath the helmet and tusk, before the former directed his attention to the towering monster. They obviously weren’t in league with the monsters, so they could call this even for the moment. 

A flurry of movement, both moved with agility as their strong suit and mere yapping dogs around the Hinox’s feet. It kicked out to open air, clumsily turning to follow them. Opportunity came in the figure sweeping his weapon against the bare tendon at the back of its ankle, cutting through the flesh and muscle as the monster howled in pain and anger. Its hands reached for Warrior only to gain a puncture straight through its palm and sent it wild and its revelation for how close it was coming to death. It couldn’t stomp, but it had fist and nails that pummeled at the ground in an attempt to crush the two beings. Warrior rolled out of the way of its swatting hands, a move he expected the other to easily maneuver. 

Except, a flash of light caught his eye from the being before the monster’s palm swatted them like a fly. 

Their body flew just as Warrior landed the fatal strike, the exposed flesh of the hinox’s belly like butter to his sword. 

And in time it would crash into a heap of ash and waste while Warrior realized his assailant was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Link breathed heavily, chest aching, a potion at his lips even as he cried.

Fifty minutes? 

All this effort to reach Hateno in record time on foot, losing all access to food and weapons, thinking he’d become a hostage to bandits or Yiga, almost _drowning_ then starting to think that maybe— if he could just be something worth it with the slate at his side— he could match Time’s prowess and Warrior’s discipline, or Legend’s range and Four’s state as the wildcard—

And Warrior had attacked him.

He got it. The last time they’d seen him at that age, he’d been the first to engage in a fight and run away before they could figure out who he was. It suddenly made sense that they didn’t know it was him much like the majority of the people of his era— and yet—

A sickening gut lurching feeling left him sick and curling into himself.

Did he want them to ever know? Would it really make a difference? 

Because this was supposed to be his moment when he proved to all of them just how capable he was, that he was a hero who could throw his weight around like the rest of them and could be strong, fast, an indispensable tool to their group that could _belong and be a shield brother and_ —

His fist connected with the fence post he leaned against. Monsters’ snarls and howls of pain still echoed just out of sight.

He hated crying because it proved exactly what he was.

So he went back to watching the recharge meter on the slate, the ancient short sword at his side all the while sipping away at a potion as the others gave it their all. Fifty minutes was nothing to a whole night of endless monsters through spawning portals. Neither was his footwork or snapping weapons or _how closely he almost got Warrior killed —_

The slate's screen and slowly recharging bar was merely a reminder of how _Link_ weighed next to heroes of old.

This fairytale could only last so much longer.

_“I’ve thought of you as one of us since the moment we found you.”_

Such words left a sour taste in his mouth.

* * *

When Warrior realized that monsters were no longer getting up or leaving from portals, the sun gleaming at dawn from the east, he breathed deeply trying to calm himself and the shiver of exhaustion that rippled through his arms. 

They were gone, along with the red maned Hylian. Instead across the hills laid heaps of ichor from those slain and their weapons.

Except in the grass something didn’t fall into ash piles but instead gleamed on its own. He picked up its two pieces, the sickle unusual but the red tassel familiar.

Yiga. 

Red mane. 

“Time!” 

* * *

“We’re leaving to Zelda in two hours. Is that enough to work on the battery?”

“You and I both know I’m no wizard . . . but I’ll try.”

* * *

“Do we tell him?”

Time looked to the boy speaking frantically with Purah. 

Since the day Twilight showed up on his doorstep, he vowed to protect every single one of them. The Yiga were close, that assassin maybe not with the monsters but looking for Link, a second assassin no less. Why else would they have followed them to Hateno? “No.”

* * *

The quaint nature of the village was gone with wreckage in its wake. Twilight and Time went off to help the dye shop owner clean the scattered glass vials of ingredients, Four taking a hammer and nail to the fences that could be fixed, and Legend picking up the farmer’s fallen trellises to be rehammered and hopefully save what crops they could. The farmer was old, old enough that he merely held the post in place while Legend took a mallet to it but had the energy to chat away.

“It certainly gave my wife a fright to hear them scratching away at the door, though I think she’s more upset over her begonias.”

“How unfortunate,” he replied with the energy of a someone who hadn’t slept since the night before. And if overheard correctly from Link and Purah, he wouldn’t be getting sleep anytime soon. Zelda was in danger, he said, much like all Zelda’s are, and the pattern was getting old. 

“It’s strange that the hero hadn’t shown up. He usually stands guard on the blood moons.”

Perhaps without the exhaustion, he would have kept his mouth shut, but he just saw a blood moon and a hoard that had all of them scrambling to keep the monsters from breaking down doors and windows, Hyrule still nursing his shoulder, and plenty of cuts and bruises and— oh yah, _exhaustion._ Legend glared at the farmer. “Link shouldn’t be out fighting monsters to begin with.”

“Hah?”

He dropped the mallet at his feet. “You heard me. You cowards sending a kid to do your dirty work— you should feel ashamed.” Because Link had more scars than the rest of them to the point Legend couldn’t look at him, and he was probably half his age. And yet all the people see him as the mallet in their hands to do the actual work they couldn’t with no care of wear, that a tool breaks just like everyone else.

Yet the farmer gave him the look of a man unsure of the joke. “Wait, you talkin’ bout Link, the one that’s this high,” he asked, gesturing to the height of his waist, “chased my sheep this morning?”

“Who else?”

The farmer burst into a joyful laugh. “Son, that’s not the hero! That’s just a little boy who lives in the village, travels with the Sheikah from time to time— maybe he’s a relative of the witch on the hill? He walked up to me and just handed me a frog once. Cute as a button.” He smiled uncomfortably at Legend’s flabbergasted state, moving to the next fallen trellis with its plant mostly in tack. “I can’t tell if you're messing with me.”

It felt as if his heart stopped. Legend, a thousand questions caught on his tongue, chose to say, “Yah, yah— really pulled your leg there, didn’t I?” _What in Hylia’s name?_

“Who knows, maybe he’ll become a great hero one day.” The man waved him off, carefully lifting the wood and waiting for Legend to catch up, but it was his mind that was far from their task.

There were two Links. 

A chill ate up his spine.

And this boy wasn’t the hero.

* * *

Wild and Twilight

Blood Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9,000 words and I feel like I'm missing something ahhhhhhh. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know if there are any issues in content or grammar. I don’t have a beta reader, so sometimes things slip that just derail a scene! Thanks again and take care!
> 
> Thank you DreamoftheWild for the art which you can find [here](https://dreamofthe-wild.tumblr.com/post/643937829874024448/please-handle-your-sheikah-slate-with-care)!


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